A Slave to Duty
by yellowrose
Summary: Lee had sworn to Admiral Nelson he would turn down future ONI assignments, but when a family friend is kidnapped, how could he refuse? But not all is what it seems and Lee soon finds himself in more trouble than he ever expected.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This was my first attempt at a Voyage story. As always, I do not own anything to do with Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea or its characters.

**Prologue**

Admiral Jacob Vandergriff stared at the substantial file before him, his mouth set in a severe line of disapproval. He knew every detail contained within the file down to the last period and it galled him each and every time he looked through it. He threw the file down in disgust as he rose to his feet. Like a caged cat, Vandergriff began to pace his large office, his brow furrowed in concentration. There must be _some_ way, he thought in growing frustration, to get his revenge. The admiral paused a moment before his desk and lifted a photo framed in silver. It was Vandergriff's grandson, Matthew Harrison, resplendent in his blazing white Naval Academy uniform, his narrow face reflecting his eagerness and pride with just a hint of arrogance. Vandergriff's grasp on the frame tightened as he studied the image. He had had so much promise, Vandergriff thought angrily, tears prickling at the back of his icy blue eyes. He could have gone so far! If only… Again he glanced at the file and with a snarl of fury swept the offending papers from his desk. A photo of another young man, dark haired and serious, appeared as the file folder spewed its contents across the floor. Vandergriff reached down and snatched it up. He peered at it for a moment before shredding it, allowing the pieces to flutter to the floor. There must be a way…

**Chapter 1**

Captain Lee Crane, commander of the research submarine, _Seaview,_ sighed and wearily rubbed his eyes. A glance at the clock informed him that it was well past 8 pm. It was the Friday before Christmas and everyone had already left the Nelson Institute of Marine Research hours ago. The crew of the _Seaview_, including her officers, had two weeks of leave and the Institute would be closed over the next week. Lee was determined to finish these reports before leaving so he could enjoy his holiday without unfinished work hanging over his head. He really had no specific plans for the two weeks. Originally, he was going to spend part of the time with his mother in Rhode Island but a short while ago she had called asking him if he would mind changing plans. She had been presented with an unexpected opportunity to go on a two week Caribbean cruise over the holidays with an old friend and although she sounded uncertain, Lee had encouraged her to go. His mother rarely went on any type of vacation and Lee would find some other time during the year to pay her a visit. This would provide him with an excellent opportunity to make some repairs and improvements around his home. With the long weeks at sea, many chores were put on the back burner and now would be a good time to tackle them.

He sighed again and stretched. He had the beginnings of a nasty headache and began to search through his desk for some aspirin when he was startled by the harsh jangle of his desk phone. He stared at it for a moment wondering who would be calling him here and at this hour of the night before finally reaching over and plucking it from its cradle.

"Crane here," he said with a touch of annoyance.

"Excuse me for bothering you at this time of night, Captain," came an officious voice on the other end, "This is Captain Johnson, adjutant to Admiral Vandergriff, the new deputy director of the ONI. He asked me to contact you."

Lee frowned. He had heard there was a new deputy director but knew nothing about him. The fact that he was calling Lee at this odd time did not bode well. "What can I do for the admiral?" he asked reluctantly.

Johnson gave a little cough. "The Admiral would like to discuss a matter of vital importance with you this evening. He has sent a car and would like to see you within the hour."

Crane sat up straight, his temper flaring. "Now just a moment!" he snarled angrily, "I told Naval Intelligence I was no longer available for any more missions. Commanding the _Seaview_ is a full time job and I simply cannot go gallivanting off every time ONI snaps its fingers!"

"This is _extremely _urgent, Captain," interrupted Johnson ignoring the Captain's heated outburst. "The Admiral is fully aware of your position in regards to ONI missions but he still wishes to speak with you. The car should be there now so if you would be so kind, the Admiral expects you in his office by 9." With that, Johnson hung up leaving Lee to stare at the receiver in furious disbelief.

Thirty minutes later, an irate Lee Crane stormed into Admiral Vandergriff's outer office where he came face to face with Captain Johnson, a rotund, balding man with watery blue eyes and a look of permanent disdain. He looked Captain Crane up and down as if examining some sort of inferior hired help. Crane glared back finally causing Johnson to redden and look away. "All right," snapped Crane, "I'm here. Where is the admiral?"

Johnson licked his lips nervously, compulsively straightening some papers as he tried to regain his composure. Crane continued to fume at this obvious delay. Finally, Johnson stood and straightened his uniform. "I'll inform the admiral you are here, Captain," he said pompously and walked deliberately to the admiral's door, knocked and disappeared inside.

Crane paced the office, rubbing his shoulder. It had been broken the previous year in some other "vitally important" ONI mission and it still gave him problems from time to time. He had already decided that regardless of the assignment, he would refuse to go. ONI missions almost invariably ended with him spending long periods of time in some hospital or another and he was through with that. It got harder and harder to bounce back from these near fatal injuries and they undermined his ability to effectively command the _Seaview_. He thought he had made that perfectly clear after the last mission. He sighed and turned towards the door just as Johnson stepped out.

"The admiral will see you now, Captain," he announced and stepped aside as Lee strode past him with barely a glance. With a sniff of disapproval, Johnson quietly closed the door and returned to his desk.

Lee entered a large office decorated with various seafaring paraphernalia, so often found in naval officers' quarters. He came to a halt before the large desk and saluted the man behind it. "Captain Crane reporting as ordered, sir," he announced with just a trace of anger coloring his words.

The admiral studied Crane silently for a few moments before returning the salute. "At ease, Captain," he replied, his voice oddly high and soft. "Please, have a seat." Lee, hat in hand, stiffly settled himself into a leather chair across from the admiral and in turn, studied the man before him.

The man certainly didn't initially give the impression of power. He was thin with short red hair streaked with gray. His keen blue eyes unflinchingly returned Crane's gaze from behind thick tortoiseshell glasses. Vandergriff's stern, down-turned mouth caused Lee to wonder if the man ever smiled. Lee shifted in his seat. The intensity of the admiral's unblinking stare was unnerving, as if he were sizing Lee up for something unpleasant.

"Captain Crane," said the Admiral in his odd voice, "I am Admiral Vandergriff and I do apologize for this unexpected call. I understand your position on participating in any further ONI missions, but I felt under the circumstances you might wish to be involved in this one." His gaze took on an almost feral intensity that caused Lee's discomfort to increase dramatically. Something didn't feel right about this.

"Uh, I'm sorry Admiral," replied Lee as he forced himself to look away from that piercing stare, "But I was quite serious about not accepting any more ONI missions regardless of the circumstances. My work on the _Seaview_ requires my constant presence, and I feel I cannot in good faith, do justice to either job if I continue to try and do both."

A flicker of a smile passed over Admiral Vandergriff's stony face. "Yes Captain, I am fully aware of all of this, but the fact is this particular situation involves you personally." Again he smiled faintly causing a chill to run down Lee's back. "I believe you are well acquainted with Dr. Charles Atwood?"

Lee stiffened in surprise at the name. Dr. Charles Atwood had been one of his father's best friends when Lee was young. "Uncle Charlie" as Lee had called him, had been a friend and mentor to the boy, especially in the years following Lee's father's death. He had encouraged Lee to apply to the Naval Academy and even helped him to get the necessary recommendations.

"Yes," nodded Vandergriff smugly, "I can see the name _does_ mean something to you." He picked up a file and looked at it briefly then continued. "Dr. Atwood, as I'm sure you know, is one of the leading experts in the field of Quantum physics. He has been heavily involved with the Navy in research intended to create a perpetual energy source. He was kidnapped by agents from a Middle Eastern terrorist group three weeks ago. We were preparing a rescue mission when he was snatched from the facility where he was being held by agents from Serbia which is where he is now being detained."

Lee frowned in dismay. He honestly did not want to become involved in any further ONI missions. In fact, he had practically promised Admiral Nelson that he would refuse any future requests. On the other hand, how could he live with himself if he refused to help rescue the man who had practically been his surrogate father? Distractedly he ran his hand through his dark hair, then sighed in resignation. "What do you need from me?" he asked looking up at the admiral.

Admiral Vandergriff smiled in triumph. He knew he would snag Crane with this particular bait. He opened the file again. "It's a fairly straightforward mission," he replied as he handed the folder to Lee. "Your part is relatively minor. Dr. Atwood, unsurprisingly, has become rather suspicious of further offers of rescue since the last one merely moved him from one prison to another. However, he knows and trusts you. We have agents in place that will carry out the actual rescue. We just need you to be there to escort him to safety. We have had word that they will be moving him to a research facility in the mountains tomorrow evening and our plan is to free him at that time. You are to meet up with this man, Liviu Dragos." he handed Lee a photo of a large swarthy man with a full beard and dark slicked back hair. "In the village of Minden. It is to his house they will be bringing the doctor. Transportation will be provided to a small airfield where you and Dr. Atwood will be picked up. In the folder you will find all your necessary information and documents."

Lee studied the information carefully. It all seemed to be there but his unease was growing stronger all the time. "I still don't understand why you need me," he began. "Surely there are other people Dr. Atwood would recognize…"

"Certainly there are," Vandergriff replied blithely, "But _they_ aren't trained ONI agents. No, Captain, you are the only one who fulfills both requirements. Still, I can't force you to take this assignment." He leaned back in his chair and studied Crane through lowered lids. "You must make this decision as your conscience dictates." He watched with amusement as various emotions flitted across Crane's face. The captain was such a slave to duty that Vandergriff had no doubts he would accept this mission. Crane couldn't bear to live with the guilt if anything happened to the professor.

Lee shut the file, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "All right," he sighed, "When do I leave?"

"Immediately," replied Vandergriff promptly. "You have a flight leaving in about an hour. We have a suitcase packed for you here, and a car is waiting outside." He paused a moment as Lee opened his mouth to protest. "I know you will want Admiral Nelson informed as soon as possible," continued the Admiral before Lee could utter a sound. "However I happen to know that Harriman is currently en route to Europe to spend the holidays with his sister. I will make sure he is contacted as soon as he has reached his destination, and I will personally explain the situation. Any further questions, Captain?"

Lee grimaced in frustration. It seemed that the admiral had thought of everything. He tightened his grip on the folder and rose to his feet. "I guess not, Admiral," he said grimly. "If there is nothing else, sir, then I'll be on my way." He saluted, turned and began to make his way out of the office. Just as he was about to open the door, Vandergriff stopped him.

"Captain Crane," he said a steely edge to his soft voice, "This mission is highly classified. You are not to mention it to anyone." He paused, watching Crane closely. "But, I wouldn't worry," again that disconcerting smile, "You will probably be back long before your two week leave is over. No one will even know you were gone."

"Yes, sir," replied Crane every instinct telling him to refuse this mission and run. But he knew he could never do that and live with himself. Again he turned and left the office, quietly closing the door behind him.

Once outside, he walked slowly by Johnson's desk, his mind working furiously. This just seemed all wrong but he couldn't put his finger on the problem. How convenient that it just so happened he was the _only_ agent who seemed to fit the bill. What would they have done if he had refused? He could feel his anger returning.

"Captain?"

Lee broke through his reverie to find he had stopped near the office door, the file crushed in his hand. Johnson was watching him with wary eyes.

"Are you all right, sir?"

Lee gave a disgusted snort. "I'm just _fine_," he snapped and stalked from office, making his way to the car downstairs. If he had to go, he might as well get it over with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was twenty four hours later and high winds and freezing rain buffeted the small plane making its way through the black night. It was freezing in the rear compartment where Lee Crane awaited the signal to jump. He adjusted his parachute for at least the tenth time in as many minutes. He had jumped from aircraft numerous times and wasn't worried about that; it was just this entire mission had him on edge.

"Five minutes to drop point, Captain!" called the pilot. The co-pilot made his way aft to help Crane prepare for the jump. Lee rose to his feet but almost fell as the plane continued to pitch wildly. The pilot fought to maintain control of his aircraft against the ferocious winds. He was concerned they may not be as close to the drop zone has he would like but he knew if he didn't head back soon, the plane might not return at all. He looked again at his instruments and decided they had reached the proper coordinates. He signaled the copilot who opened the hatch. The blast of wind almost knocked him off his feet. He looked apprehensively at Crane, worried the Captain might very well be killed in this jump, but Lee showed no sign of backing out. Lee fought his way to the open hatch, nodded his thanks to the crewmen, took a deep breath and jumped into the maelstrom.

As soon as Lee opened his chute, the force of the wind almost tore it from him. He cried out in pain as he fought to maneuver through the screaming gale. The rain and sleet blinded him as he struggled to make out any landmarks below, but all he could see was an inky void. He was supposed to land in an open field but with the fierce wind blowing him uncontrollably, there was no telling where he would end up. _This was insane!_ He thought desperately. Any intelligent man would have waited until the conditions were more favorable but Lee knew they were under strict time constraints and he needed to be in place before the professor arrived.

The drop seemed interminable. Lee's body ached from fighting the wind and the pull of his chute. He knew the landing wouldn't be a good one and he could feel himself tensing up for the inevitable collision. It came sooner than he expected. He felt himself crash into the wildly whipping branches of a large tree; a sharp, shattering pain in his left arm caused him to cry out and for a few moments, everything went black.

When he came to moments later, Lee found himself suspended a few feet above the forest floor, his chute hopelessly tangled in the branches above. The wind was less fierce in this protected grove, but the conditions were dismal nonetheless. He was shivering uncontrollably despite his layers of clothing and when he moved his left arm, the agonizing pain caused black spots to dance across his vision. He took a few deep breaths and fought the rising nausea. When he had regained control he considered his situation. He was maybe 8 feet above the ground and under normal circumstances such a drop would not concern him. However, he had no doubt his arm was badly broken (lucky it wasn't his neck, he thought grimly) and such a fall could be extremely painful. He sighed unhappily. There wasn't any choice. He obviously couldn't remain where he was and perhaps if he fell just right, he would land on his feet and thus avoiding any further damage to his arm. With a deep breath, he carefully hit the release on his harness and felt himself abruptly plummet toward earth. Bracing himself, he prepared to land but just as he hit the ground, his feet slipped on the freezing mud sending him sprawling. He cried out as the pain exploded in his injured arm and again, unconsciousness seized him.

He had no idea how long he lay there but obviously long enough to be encased in a thin layer of freezing sleet. He grunted in pain as he pushed himself to sitting position, gingerly cradling his injured arm. He was soaking wet and shivering violently. He knew this was very bad. He had absolutely no idea where he was at the moment or how to find his way to Minden much less contact Dragos. Well, the first thing he had to do was find some shelter from this storm. He still had his backpack so once he was out of the elements he could hopefully figure out where he was.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, pausing a moment to let a wave of dizziness pass. He tried to study his surroundings but was blinded by the onslaught of icy sleet and rain. He reached for the flashlight attached to his belt and holding his injured arm pressed close to his body, he began to struggle though the dense forest in search of shelter.

He remembered little of that journey besides the bone-chilling cold and the throbbing pain of his arm. There was no path to speak of and he frequently found himself stumbling or skidding on the slippery and uneven ground. Roots seemed to maliciously rise up to trip him and it was all Lee could do to keep his footing. The colder he became the more he stumbled and the more difficult it became to maintain his concentration. He was fully aware he was beginning to suffer the effects of hypothermia but at the moment, there was nothing he could do to counteract its affects. Finally, his wavering flashlight briefly illuminated what looked like a small cleft in a rocky hillside. It might not be much, but perhaps it would be large enough to get him out of the wind.

Carefully, he eased himself through the opening. It was maybe 6 feet deep and 5 feet high – just enough to provide some protection. Lee breathed a sigh of relief. He could feel his entire body slump with exhaustion from fighting the wind and all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. However, he knew that was the last thing he should do. Awkwardly and painfully, he managed to lower his pack as he collapsed shivering to the ground. He leaned up against the damp wall and studied his injured arm. He could feel a warm trickle of blood dripping down his left hand. He clenched his teeth and removed his heavy outer jacket. It was soaked through and felt as if it weighed a ton. The sweater sleeve underneath was also wet but Lee realized it wasn't just from the rain. He carefully pushed the sleeve up and felt his stomach clench as he observed the odd angle of his forearm; a sharp piece of bone protruded through the flesh with blood seeping from the ugly wound. Again a wave of dizziness struck him forcefully and he was afraid he would black out. Taking several deep breaths, he steadied himself.

_Great_, he thought dismally. _I'm not even out on this mission an hour and already I'm in serious trouble! I _knew_ I should have turned this down!" _He looked through his pack for his first aid kit. He had to stop the bleeding and somehow immobilize the arm. Lee was shivering so violently, he was having trouble opening the case. At last the pack popped opened and after digging out a sterile compress, Lee gritted his teeth as he clumsily pressed it against the wound. He closed his eyes wishing he could just sleep. He felt so exhausted perhaps a short nap would help him concentrate better…

No! His eyes snapped open and he struggled to sit upright. If he fell asleep now, chances are he'd never wake up. He shook his head dismayed that he almost allowed himself succumb. He needed to find help and to do that he had to figure out where he was. He dug through his pack again and pulled out his GPS device to check his location. Comparing the coordinates to his map, he realized he was at least 2 miles from the drop point but actually only about a mile from Minden. Maybe something would go right this evening after all. Lee studied the map carefully and saw that he was approximately half a mile from the road into Minden. If he could reach that, getting into the village itself should be easy.

_Famous last words,_ Lee thought grimly as he checked the bleeding from his arm. The compress was soaked with blood so he changed it and renewed the pressure. After several long, painful minutes, the bleeding receded to a mere trickle and Lee awkwardly bandaged it. He had nothing with which to fashion a splint but found a square of fabric in the first aid kit to use as a sling. That would have to do. He knew he couldn't stay in the cleft much longer. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake and walking would at least help generate body heat. The bouts of shivering seemed to be coming on stronger than ever but Lee knew it was only a matter of time before the cold would overcome him, especially in his present condition. He had to find a warm, dry shelter and get out of his wet clothing. So, that meant he had to get to Minden and find Liviu Dragos.

With agonizing slowness, Lee managed to push himself back onto his feet. He picked up his waterlogged jacket with distaste but knew it would provide some protection. It took several clumsy attempts before Lee was able to get his good arm through the sleeve and settle the jacket onto his shoulders over the sling. He then slung his pack over his good shoulder and stepped back out into the storm.

He was relieved to find the wind and sleet had decreased considerably and was now down to at least a tolerable level. Checking his GPS again, he headed off to the north hoping to intersect with the road. Despite his determination, he found the going rough as he stumbled along but at least this time he had a destination in mind. It took him a good hour to finally reach the narrow road, barely more than a trail though the forest but to Lee, it was the most beautiful thing he could have imagined. Panting with exertion, Lee turned to the right and headed towards the village. He could actually see some faint lights in the distance and for the first time all night, he began to hope that this mission wouldn't be a complete fiasco.

No vehicles passed Lee on that dismal night and for that he was grateful. He didn't want to have to explain who he was or what he was doing wandering around in the forest. He shambled down the icy and rutted pavement thinking only of a warm bed and a hot cup of coffee. He was barely aware of his surroundings now; only the scattered lights ahead drawing him on. He could scarcely feel his hands or feet. When he reached the outskirts of the town he came to a stumbling halt. He swayed alarmingly but somehow managed to keep his feet. He pulled the map from his jacket pocket and consulted it for a moment before continuing on into the silent, sleeping village. After a few false turns, he finally found himself on the doorstep of a small, ramshackle cottage at the end of a lane littered with soggy piles of reeking refuse.

Lee leaned wearily against the doorframe and knocked three times in slow succession followed by two more then waited. Several minutes passed before the door was cautiously opened enough to allow a large, bushy haired man to peer suspiciously out. He caught one glimpse of Lee shivering in the doorway and flung the door open just in time to catch Lee as he started to slump to the ground. With a anxious look around, the man quickly pulled Lee inside and quietly shut the door behind them.

Warmth…blessed, soothing warmth was the first thing Lee noticed when he came to. He was lying on something soft and very warm. He was reluctant to open his eyes in case this was all a dream. "Captain?" a deep voice called softly. "Captain Crane? You must wake up." Slowly, reluctantly Lee forced his heavy eyes open. A heavily bearded face peered down at him with warm but worried brown eyes. "Captain?" the voice repeated. "Can you hear me?"

Lee blinked several times trying to bring things into focus. He was in a small room, a fire burned brightly in a stone fireplace in the far wall. It was dark except for a small lamp burning by his bedside. "Yes," he said hoarsely, "Yes, I can hear you. Where am I?"

The man beamed in relief. "You are in my home. I am Liviu Dragos. I have been waiting for you." He reached over to the bedside table and lifted a mug of steaming hot tea. "Here Captain, you must drink something warm. I was not sure you were going to make it; you were so cold!" Gently, he eased Lee into a sitting position and helped him take several sips of the soothing liquid. Its warmth seemed to spread though Lee instantly. He quickly finished off the mug and sighed in contentment. He then looked down at his injured arm suddenly aware of the dull throb of pain. It had been neatly splinted and wrapped. Dragos followed Lee's gaze. "I am no doctor," he smiled apologetically, "But you cannot live in such a remote place as Minden without learning some basic medical skills. I have had to set many broken bones in my time." He tilted his head as he studied his handiwork. "However, it should be seen by a real doctor when you get the chance. It was a nasty break and may very well become infected."

Lee nodded wearily and leaned back against the pillows. "How long have I been here?"

"A few hours only," Dragos assured him. "Now, perhaps you can tell me why you have come. I was not told any details of your mission, just that you would arrive tonight."

Something was bothering Lee but he was having trouble concentrating. Again, things seemed to be in order but his instincts kept sounding warning bells. He just couldn't put his finger on what was setting him off. "Captain?" Lee blinked rapidly aware that he had been starting to doze off.

"Oh," he said feeling dazed and he could feel the beginnings of a blinding headache, "I, uh, am supposed to meet Dr. Charles Atwood. An agent is supposed to bring him here tomorrow night." He frowned trying to think.

Dragos studied Lee carefully. "Is that right, Captain? Did you say Charles Atwood?"

Lee's headache was growing exponentially. "Yes," he replied grimacing in pain. He then looked up at Dragos and felt a cold lump in his stomach. "Why don't you know this?" he asked warily. Suddenly his eyes widened. He realized what was bothering him – Dragos knew his real name! He was supposed to know him by the alias Lee Michaels yet Dragos had repeatedly called him Captain Crane. He tried to sit up straighter but the room began to spin around and with growing dread, Lee realized he had been drugged.

"I think, Captain," said Dragos quietly, leaning in closer, "That you are lying. Why would you be sent to retrieve a man who was rescued over a week ago?"

Lee blinked in confusion. What did Dragos mean? How could Atwood have already been rescued? "That was my mission," he insisted stubbornly trying to fight through the increasing effects of the drug.

Dragos leaned back and shook his head. "Ah Captain," he sighed sadly, "I had hoped this would be a simple task. It would be so much easier on you if you told me the truth now. The secret police are on their way and they have methods far less…uh…pleasant. You could spare yourself much pain if you would tell me your real reason for being here."

Lee leaned back against the pillows, barely able to think beyond the hammering in his skull. His entire body now felt like lead and he could barely move. Still, he kept trying to figure out what was going on. "I have told you why I am here," he gasped painfully, forcing open his eyes to glare at the scowling Dragos. Speaking was becoming a major effort. "I was sent to escort Dr. Atwood to safety. That's _all_." With that, he closed his eyes again and let the darkness take him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

New Year's had come and gone and the Nelson Institute of Marine Research was just starting to get back into its normal routine. Admiral Nelson looked ruefully at the pile of paperwork he had neglected to finish before leaving for the holidays. He had had a splendid two weeks with his sister, Edith, in Scotland but now it was time to get back to business. He looked at the clock. It was almost 9:00 am and he knew Lee and the _Seaview's_ executive officer, Chip Morton should be arriving any minute. They were going to go over the plans for their next mission scheduled to depart in less than a week. It was a straightforward mapping mission so the meeting shouldn't take much time. _Good thing, _Nelson thought eyeing the offending stack, _or I'll never get through all this!"_

A short while later, Chip Morton was announced by Angie, Nelson's longtime assistant. The young blond XO strolled into the office looking tanned and relaxed. He had spent part of the holidays down in Florida visiting family. "Good morning, Chip" smiled the Admiral. "You look like you enjoyed your time off."

Chip grinned back thinking of a particularly delightful young lady with whom he had spent a good portion of his Florida trip. "I think you could say that, sir." He looked around the office. "Lee not here yet?"

"Not yet," replied Nelson, "But I expect him here any time. Did you hear from him at all during the holidays?"

Chip shook his head as he settled into one of the office's comfortable leather chairs. "No, I believe he was spending them with his mother in Rhode Island."

"That's what I understood," nodded Nelson. "I think he was supposed to return last night."

The two men spent several minutes discussing their holidays but as time passed with no Lee, Nelson felt a twinge of uneasiness. "I'm beginning to get a little worried, Chip," Nelson finally admitted after almost an hour. "Lee would have called if he knew he was running this late."

Chip nodded. "Maybe we should try calling his house. Perhaps if he got in really late, he simply overslept." Both men knew that was highly unlikely, but Nelson asked Angie to try and reach Crane on the phone.

"I'm sorry, Admiral," Angie reported a short while later. "I've tried several times, but there's no answer."

Admiral Nelson frowned. "Try calling his mother in Rhode Island. She should be able to tell us when he left."

Angie had better success this time. "Mrs. Crane is on line one, Admiral," she announced.

Nelson picked up the phone and pressed the connect button, "Mrs. Crane," he began warmly, "This is Admiral Nelson. How are you?"

"Hello, Admiral!" replied Elizabeth Crane a touch of concern in her voice. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you." Nelson looked over at Chip who was watching him keenly "Uh, Mrs. Crane, we're trying to find Lee and I was wondering if you could tell me when he left there yesterday."

There was a moment of silence before Mrs. Crane responded. "Admiral, Lee didn't come here for the holidays," she began, her concern growing more apparent. "I went on a cruise with an old friend and Lee said he had lots to do there so I wasn't to worry. I haven't heard from him since before Christmas. Admiral…is there something wrong?"

Admiral Nelson was genuinely worried now. "Uh, I don't know yet," he admitted trying to reassure Lee's mother, "But I'm sure he's here somewhere. He's just late for a meeting. I'll let you know as soon as we locate him."

With repeated assurances to Mrs. Crane, Nelson finally hung up and looked over to Chip. Chip's face had gone pale. "Not again," Chip said very quietly. He was thinking to the times in the past when Lee had gone missing. The results were never good. "You don't think he went on an ONI mission without telling you, do you?" he asked reluctantly.

Nelson sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't think so. Not this time. After that last assignment almost killed him he all but promised he would refuse any further missions. However, I think I'll give them a call just the same."

A short time later, Nelson was on the phone with Deputy Director Vandergriff. "No, Admiral," came Vandergriff's smooth response to Nelson's query. "We have no record of Captain Crane being involved with any mission through this department. Besides, I was under the impression that Captain Crane would no longer be involved with any ONI endeavors."

"That is true," agreed Nelson distractedly, "He did talk to the Director about that but you people have a way of talking him into things."

Vandergriff smirked, "Well rest assured Admiral Nelson, that Crane is not on any mission for the ONI," and with that, he signed off.

Nelson stared at the phone for a moment before silently returning it to its cradle. Frowning deeply, he turned again to a worried Chip. "Vandergriff assures me that Lee isn't on any mission for them."

Chip bit his lip in thought. "Sir, how about if I go over to Lee's house and make sure he's not there. Maybe he's hurt or sick. At least I could see if his car is there."

Nelson nodded his assent. "That's a good idea, Chip. In the meantime, I'll call around a few other places and see if anyone has seen him."

Chip quickly left the building for the parking lot. He climbed into his car but paused a moment before starting the engine. Where could Lee be? Chip prayed he hadn't been kidnapped again. Captain Crane seemed to have a propensity for getting into trouble even under the most ordinary of circumstances. He sighed, turned on the ignition and headed out to Lee's beachside home.

He felt a moment of relief when he spotted Lee's sleek red sports car in the driveway. _Let's just hope that mean he's home,_ thought Chip as he climbed the steps to the front door. He knocked loudly and waited. There was no response. He knocked several more times before pulling out his keys. Long ago Lee had given Chip a key to the house for emergencies and Chip felt this could be one of those times. When he stepped in the sunny foyer, he immediately felt the emptiness of the house. "Lee?" he called loudly, moving into the living room. When there was no response, Chip quickly searched through the rest of Lee's bright, airy home. Everything was in order. There was no sign that Lee had left in a hurry or of any sign of violence. It was if he had walked out the front door one morning and simply not returned. Chip ran his hand across his face in thought. Lee's car was here but where was Lee? He turned to the French doors that opened onto the oceanfront deck. Opening the doors he peered out towards the beach and around the deck itself. There was still no sign of the missing captain. What concerned Chip even more was the fact Lee could have been missing for over two weeks and the chances of finding him without some kind of break were slim.

With a sigh of frustration, Chip returned to the house and called Admiral Nelson. "I'm sorry, sir," he began. "Although his car is here, there's no sign of Lee."

Back in his office, Admiral Nelson absently rubbed his aching head. "Thanks Chip. I haven't been able to get any leads on him either. No one seems to have seen or heard from him since the day we all left for the holidays. It looks like I may have to report this. The fact that his car is there but he's not is a bad sign." He took a long drag on his ever present cigarette. "All right, Chip," he said, "You might as well come on back. There's nothing more you can do there." Chip agreed and promised he would return shortly.

Agitated, Nelson stood up and began to pace his office. Was Lee's disappearance the result of foul play or had he been kidnapped by some enemy organization? Nelson was reminded of the time the Peoples' Republic had kidnapped Lee in order to brainwash him. However, Lee had only been gone over a weekend that time. Was his disappearance even connected to his work at all or had he simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time? That could be an important piece of information when it came to trying locating him. Nelson turned and angrily slammed his fist onto his desk causing his name plate to go flying. _Damn! Why on earth does everything have to happen to Lee Crane!_

"Admiral?"

Startled, Nelson whirled to around to find himself facing Angie, a cup of coffee in her hand. "Admiral?" she repeated hesitantly. "Are you all right?"

Nelson sighed heavily and collapsed into his seat. "I'm sorry, Angie," he apologized gruffly, "Lee seems to have disappeared again and I'm just worried."

Angie frowned as she gingerly placed the mug on the Admiral's desk. "He didn't go to his mother's?" she asked picking up the wayward name plate and returning it to its place.

"No. His mother said he was going to stay here. Chip just went over to his house and although his car is there, Lee isn't. It's like he just vanished off the face of the earth."

Angie chewed her lip thoughtfully as she studied her boss' anxious face. "I know a few girls he might have seen over the holidays," she said finally. "I'll try calling them." She turned to leave. "I'll let you know if I learn anything, sir."

Nelson nodded his thanks and stared into his coffee. A short while later, Chip returned looking just as troubled. "Any word, Admiral?" he asked hopefully.

"No, Chip," replied Nelson. "I've reported his absence to the police as well as the government agencies. Until we hear something, there's nothing else we can do."

Both men stared at each other for a moment fully aware that it may already be too late.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Lee huddled in the darkness of the cold, dank cell. _How long have I been here?_ He wondered dully. He shivered violently and not just from the cold. He knew he was sick, probably from the foul water he'd had to lap up from the floor. He had been forced to go for days at a time with no water and the water seeping from the walls and floor had been all that had kept him going. It was just one of the ways they had been attempting to break him. He tried not to move any more than necessary. Every square inch of his body ached and even the slightest change in his position seemed to rip open the deep lacerations across his back causing new rivulets of blood to flow. He was so dehydrated from lack of water he was almost surprised he had any fluids left in his body. On top of that, his broken arm throbbed with infection and his head felt like it was going to explode. His interrogators had not been gentle and Lee knew most of his ribs were either broken or bruised. He suspected one of his lungs had been badly bruised. He had been coughing up blood ever since that last beating.

Wearily, he rested his pounding head on his knees as he contemplated his predicament. There was no doubt now in his mind that he had been set up. How else could he explain being sent to help a man who had long since been rescued? But why? Who would have arranged this? He thought again of Admiral Vandergriff. He couldn't imagine why he would want Lee dead. As far as Lee could remember, he'd never even met the man so why on earth would he send Lee off on a wild goose chase? A deep, painful cough racked his body and Lee could taste blood. This was followed by another round of violent chills. His fever was getting higher, and he was finding it harder and harder to think clearly. As he gradually passed into unconsciousness, he found himself almost hoping he wouldn't wake up.

Colonel Andre Valenkov, a tall, thin distinguished looking man with short, graying hair stood in the office of the Trebisov Prison looking through the files of the newest inmates. It was his responsibility to check these every few weeks to see if there were any prisoners that might be of special interest to the High Command. However, that was not his only concern. Valenkov stared at the file he held in his hand. It was that of an American Naval officer, Commander Lee Crane. Valenkov frowned. He knew that name. Crane was actually the commander the famous research submarine, _Seaview_ but even more importantly, Valenkov was aware that Crane frequently worked for the Office of Naval Intelligence. As did he. Valenkov had been in place in the higher echelons of the Secret Police for over ten years. He had provided invaluable information and assistance to the US government and her agents during that time. He scowled as he studied the file. Why had he not been notified that Crane would be sent here? He frowned even deeper as he realized the implications of what he read. Crane claimed he was to meet Liviu Dragos and rescue Dr. Charles Atwood but Dragos was a known double agent. No one was ever sent to meet with him. He was sometime used to disseminate misinformation but never as a contact. And why on earth would Crane claim his mission was to rescue Dr. Atwood? ONI had been instrumental in orchestrating his retrieval just last month. Valenkov shook his head something was very wrong. He decided to pay Crane a visit.

Valenkov stood impatiently outside the cellblock door as the jailer struggled with the lock. The prison was very old having been built in the 17th century, and Valenkov wasn't sure anything had changed since. Finally, with a groan, the door swung open. Valenkov stepped back as the rank odor of unwashed bodies and unemptied waste buckets assaulted his senses. The jailer shrugged apologetically. This was a prison after all, not the Ritz. Ignoring the cries and oaths thrown at them from the inmates, Valenkov followed the jailer deeper into the prison until they came to one more door, identical to the rest near the end of the block. The jailer quickly turned the key and opened the cell door to reveal the dark hole beyond. He handed Valenkov the lantern and stepped back to allow the Colonel to enter. He then closed the door behind him and waited in the corridor.

Valenkov cautiously approached the man lying still in the corner of the cell. Valenkov studied him with a professional detachment. He had been in this business for a long time, and he had no trouble identifying a man near the end of his rope. The interrogators had been very thorough in their work even though they had gotten no additional information from Crane. It was obvious to the Colonel that in addition to his many injuries, the Captain was gravely ill; pneumonia or typhoid or perhaps both. Many prisoners died from both diseases in this hellhole. Aware of the presence of the jailer just outside the door, Valenkov gently pushed Crane with his boot. "Captain!" he called hoping to rouse the man. When he received no response, he squatted down closer and called again.

Slowly, Crane forced his bloodshot eyes open, quickly shutting them against the glare of the lantern. Valenkov pushed the light behind him. "Captain, can you hear me?" Valenkov asked softy.

Again, Crane squinted up at the Colonel. "I hear you," he rasped painfully. "I have nothing more to say." With that he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the blow he was certain would follow.

Valenkov stared down at the man thoughtfully. As he considered his next step, the cell door swung open and the jailer stood nervously in the doorway. "Sir," he said indicating another officer behind him, "you are wanted at the High Command." Sighing, Valenkov stood. Picking up his lantern, he gave Crane one last speculative look. He would have to do something about this and soon.

Lee relaxed as he heard the man leave and the door shut firmly behind him. He had fully expected to be hauled out for yet another round of interrogation. He wasn't sure exactly what this particular official had wanted but it hardly mattered. Lee had nothing else to say.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Captain Johnson stared at the message in his hand and felt ill. Technically, he wasn't even supposed to be reading this. It was a recently decoded message intended for Admiral Vandergriff, but with the admiral gone for the next week, Johnson felt it was his job to screen such messages for anything that might require the admiral's immediate attention. Johnson had received several calls from Admiral Nelson and his staff concerning the missing Captain Crane and as per his instructions, Johnson had denied any knowledge of Crane or his whereabouts. That wasn't entirely true of course. Johnson was fully aware that Vandergriff had sent Crane somewhere but the admiral, in a bout of unusual reticence had chosen not to share the details of this mission with his adjutant. Reading the message again, Johnson fully understood why. In fact, he understood a lot more than anyone else would have. He knew now that Crane had been sent off on a mission from which the admiral had had no intention he should return. Pure and simple, Crane had been set up.

Absently, Johnson slipped the message back into its envelope. What should he do? He knew from the message that Crane was still alive although in poor condition. If Johnson revealed what he knew, his boss and mentor would be in serious trouble. However, if he kept quiet, one of ONI's most talented agents would be lost for no reason. Johnson considered Crane. He had to admit that he was jealous of the man. Who wouldn't be? He was the epitome of the perfect sea captain – tall, handsome and impossibly brave. Crane had done things that Johnson could never in his wildest imagination imagine himself doing. Plus, by all accounts, he was loved and respected by his crew and generally a nice guy. Johnson gave a small laugh; the man was almost TOO perfect. But that was no reason to let him take the fall. Johnson knew exactly why Vandergriff had sent Crane on this fatal mission. He also knew Vandergriff was wrong.

Johnson stood and began to pace. He realized that if he was going to do something it would have to be soon. Men that ended up in Trebisov prison rarely returned alive. He had no authority to act but perhaps he could contact someone who did. Johnson paused by the window and stared thoughtfully at the park-like grounds beyond. Again, he felt the troubling indecision. Johnson didn't want to hurt Vandergriff. The man had been like a father to him and had helped him move up the ranks. If Vandergriff fell, where would that leave him? Johnson ran his hand through his sparse hair. What should he do?

At NIMR headquarters, Admiral Nelson sat silently at his desk, adding yet another cigarette butt to the growing pile in the ashtray. Dr. Jamison, the ship's doctor, had been pleading with him to at least cut back, but with the stress of Lee's disappearance, Nelson felt that was the least of his worries. He now considered _Seaview's _recently completed cruise and shook his head in disgust. What a nightmare. The morale of the crew at been at rock bottom, numerous mistakes had been made in routine duties and calculations which had resulted in needless problems and delays, and in the end it turned out they had been mapping the wrong side of the extensive seamount because no one had noticed the transposed coordinates. Nelson, in a fit of frustration, had called the entire mission off and headed home five days early. No one complained and even Nelson himself was secretly glad to be back in Santa Barbara where he was hoping he could now work on his biggest priority – locating the missing Captain Crane.

A soft knock at his door caused him to look up. "Come in." A moment later a haggard Chip Morton stepped into the office. He looked as exhausted as Nelson felt. Neither man had slept much since Lee disappeared, both wracking there brains for some clue they might have missed.

"Hello, Chip," sighed Nelson wearily. "Have a seat."

Chip slumped into the chair gratefully. He had spent all morning on the _Seaview_ doing an array of final checks as the crew got ready for some home leave. "The men were pleased to get two weeks unexpected leave," he told Nelson with a wan smile, "But several of the men, Sharkey, Patterson, and Kowalski among them said they would be around if we needed any help finding the Skipper." Chip spent a moment of his own mentally reviewing the last cruise. The men had been really low knowing the Skipper was missing. They always worried when he was off on some ONI mission, but this was different. No one knew where Crane was, and they all were fully aware that the longer he remained missing the less likely he would be found alive. It had been close to a month now since anyone had seen him and Chip knew that did not bode well.

Chip looked up at Nelson who was staring absently into space. "Admiral? I don't suppose there was any news while we were gone?"

Blinking, Nelson brought himself back to the present. He felt there was something fishy about this whole mess, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. He shook his head in response to Chip's hopeful question. "No, not a word."

The two men sat in silence once more as they considered their next move. They just didn't know where to begin. Both government and local authorities had been notified but so far, no one had turned up so much as a hair of the missing captain. It seemed to be a lost cause but neither was willing to admit that. Just as Nelson was about to light another cigarette his intercom squawked causing him to jump.

"Admiral?" came Angie's soft voice, "There is a Captain Johnson from the Office of Naval Intelligence here to see you." There was a pause and then in a tight voice Angie continued, "He says it's about Lee."

Nelson and Chip exchanged startled looks as Nelson punched the button. "Send him in!" he barked. Seconds later, the door opened and Angie ushered in the harried looking Captain Johnson. Both Nelson and Chip were on their feet staring avidly at the nervous little man. "Captain Johnson?" asked Nelson as Angie quietly shut the door behind her. Johnson nodded stiffly and sat uneasily in the chair Nelson indicated.

Johnson licked his lips as he glanced at the two men across from him. Nelson's blue eyes seemed to pierce him to his heart. Maybe this was a mistake after all. He jumped at the unexpected sound of Nelson's deep voice. "Captain Johnson, I understand you have some information concerning the disappearance of Captain Crane?"

Johnson looked down, blinking nervously. "I…uh…" he faltered. How could he go through with this? It would destroy his career as well as Vandergriff's. He sat in miserable silence glancing towards the door as if plotting his escape.

Nelson studied him carefully. Part of him wanted to scream and rage at this impossible little man, but instinctively he knew that if he did that, the man would bolt like a rabbit, and they might never find out what had happened to Lee. "Captain?" repeated Nelson softly, "Please. If you have _any_ idea of where we might find Captain Crane, I beg of you to tell us. He is very important to all of us, and we need to find him."

Johnson glanced up at Nelson's pleading face and quickly looked away. It was obvious the man was distraught by the disappearance of his sub's captain and Johnson had always heard the Nelson treated Crane more like a son than a subordinate. But…he took a handkerchief from his pocket a mopped his brow. He just wasn't _sure_. The silence seemed interminable as Nelson and Chip stared expectantly at Johnson. Finally, making his choice, Johnson took a deep quavering breath and began.

"Admiral, Captain Crane is in the Trebisov Prison."

Chip turned as Nelson gasped in recognition. "You've heard of this place, Admiral?" he frowned.

"It's one of the worst prisons in all of Eastern Europe," Nelson replied never taking his eyes off of the quivering Johnson. "It has a mortality rate of over 90%, or so I'm told." He paused as he fought to control his temper. He wanted to throttle Johnson. "Suppose, Captain," he growled through gritted teeth, "You explain why and how Crane ended up in Trebisov as well as why we have been told repeatedly that your office knew nothing about Crane's disappearance!" Johnson cowered even further into his chair as Nelson's voice rose to a thunderous roar.

"I…I…" stammered Johnson, mopping his brow once more. He swallowed convulsively, but he had made his decision and he would see it through. He sat up straighter and looked directly at Nelson. "Admiral, I was ordered not to tell anyone that Captain Crane had been to see Admiral Vandergriff the night of December 20th nor was I told any details of his mission. However, two days ago we received a coded message from one of our agents in Serbia that Crane had been captured. That was bad enough, but it was the rest of the message that caused me to come to you today."

Nelson sat further forward in his seat, his eyes boring into Johnson. "Go on."

Johnson again shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Now was the time. He took a deep breath and blurted, "Captain Crane was set up!" Ignoring the gasps of disbelief, Johnson plowed on. "Admiral Vandergriff sent him to Serbia supposedly to help rescue Dr. Charles Atwood. Crane was dropped near the village of Minden and instructed to meet with a man called Liviu Dragos. Atwood was supposed to be rescued by another agent and brought to Dragos' and escorted home by Crane. But Admiral," Johnson looked ill, "Liviu Dragos is a known collaborator and double agent. Anyone sent to meet with him would undoubtedly be turned over to the authorities."

"Could that have been a mistake?" asked Chip in confusion. "Vandergriff is new to ONI. Perhaps there was some misunderstanding?"

Johnson shook his head. "No, Commander," he said flatly. "There was no mistake. This entire mission was a set up. Dr. Atwood had already been rescued at least a week before the admiral met with Captain Crane. He knew exactly what he was doing when he sent Crane on this bogus assignment. Knowing how close Crane was to Dr. Atwood, the admiral had no doubt Crane would go despite his promise to you, Admiral Nelson, that he would refuse future requests from ONI. Vandergriff even promised Crane he would let you know that he had left. That was a lie of course. He had no intention of letting anyone know, including me, that he had sent Crane to Serbia."

"But _why_?" exploded Nelson, his eyes flaring, "_Why_ would Jacob Vandergriff send Lee on some sort of suicide mission? What was he hoping to accomplish?"

"Crane's death," sighed Johnson softly looking down. "I think he has been planning this for several years. Ever since the death of his grandson, Matthew Harrison."

This was met by a moment of baffled silence. "His grandson?" asked Nelson shaking his head. "What on earth does his grandson have to do with any of this?"

"Wait a minute…" said Chip frowning in thought. "I know that name. Wasn't he in the Academy with Lee?"

"Yes," nodded Johnson, "That's him."

"But that doesn't explain anything!" spluttered Nelson angrily. "What has Harrison got to do with Lee's disappearance?"

Johnson looked pleadingly at Nelson, "It has everything to do with it! Admiral Vandergriff _despised_ Crane. He felt that Crane had purposefully prevented Matthew from achieving his full potential at the Academy. No matter how well Matthew did, Crane always did better. Finally, Matthew dropped out of the Academy all together. He became a cryptographer for the CIA and was very good at it from what I understand." He paused again as if to gather his thoughts. "But the Admiral was furious. He had expected a great naval career from Matthew and blamed Crane for Matthew's departure from the Academy. But then came the final straw. Captain Crane was sent on an ONI mission in the People's Republic several years ago to retrieve some vitally important information on terrorist activities there. ONI had set up a wiretap, and Crane was supposed to monitor the transmissions for two days awaiting word on the group's next attack. ONI knew what was supposed to happen and when, just not where. However, the messages were being sent in a new code so a cryptographer was sent along as well."

"Harrison," said Nelson quietly.

"Yes, that's right," nodded Johnson. "Matthew volunteered to go. He wanted his chance to finally prove to his grandfather he was as good as Crane. The message came through on the second day, and Matthew decoded it within an hour. He was very talented as I said. Crane was then supposed to get them out of there and back to safety with the information. That's when things went wrong. From what I understand, Matthew didn't think he needed Crane's help returning with the information. In fact, he wanted to make it back on his own, not only to prove he was as capable in the field as Crane but to make sure he got most of the credit for the success of the mission undoubtedly to impress his grandfather." Johnson stopped as if unable to continue. He had known Matthew and as much as he hated to admit it, had disliked the young man intensely. He had always impressed Johnson as a self-centered whiner. Johnson doubted that Matthew had been anywhere near as talented as Crane and that he had used Crane as an excuse to drop out and escape the demands of the Academy and his domineering grandfather.

"So what happened?" prompted Chip who felt he had a good idea already.

"Well," sighed Johnson, "Matthew clubbed Crane over the head and took off. As you probably have guessed, a great cryptographer he might have been but a great field agent he decidedly was not. He ran into a patrol, panicked and was shot. Despite his wounds, he managed to escape long enough for Crane to find him and retrieve the information but Matthew didn't survive or at least that's what Crane thought. Crane reported that he was forced to leave Matthew behind but that Matthew was dead when he left. We found out later that wasn't true."

"You mean Lee intentionally left Matthew behind when he knew the man was still alive?" demanded Nelson in disbelief. He knew full well that Crane would never leave a companion behind if there was the slightest chance of saving him.

Johnson paused and gave a slight rueful shake of his head. "We learned that Matthew was all but dead when Crane took off. Their pursuers found him just moments later and they were able to revive him. They wanted him alive for questioning. If Crane had tried to carry him out, Matthew would have been dead within minutes. Captain Crane always downplayed his role in that mission. He felt terrible about Matthew's death and always gave him the credit for obtaining that information."

Nelson frowned in confusion. "Wait a minute, how did you learn all of this? Is Harrison still alive?"

"No, Admiral," sighed Johnson sadly, "He died some months later in prison. Our contact there was able to speak with Matthew shortly before he died and Matthew told him everything. I must say that in the end, he assumed full responsibility for his own fate. He didn't blame Crane in the least. Yet, despite that, the Admiral still held Crane fully responsible for Matthew's death. Crane was supposed to be in charge of the mission and although Matthew was the one who screwed up, Crane might as well have been the one who pulled the trigger as far as the Admiral was concerned. Admiral Vandergriff has never forgiven Crane. I think the Admiral's efforts to obtain an appointment to the ONI were all part of his plan to get his revenge."

Nelson rose to his feet and began pacing the room. "So you're telling me," he said finally turning back to Johnson, "That Jacob Vandergriff sent Lee on a mission _expecting _himto either be captured or, preferably, killed all because he blames Lee for his grandson's death?"

"Yes, Admiral," nodded Johnson solemnly. "That's about it."

"Is Lee still alive?" demanded Chip scowling at the man before him. He was appalled by this entire story and was determined to find his friend if at all possible.

"Our contact says he was as of a few days ago but he's not in very good shape."

Nelson slammed his fist on the desk. "I don't believe this!" he roared furiously. "So what does ONI plan on doing about getting Lee out of there!"

Johnson flushed and refused to meet Nelson's ferocious glare. "Nothing," he said in a strained whisper. "I went to the Director first. As far as the ONI is concerned, Crane is not on any mission for them and there is no proof Vandergriff actually sent him on an assignment. No paperwork exists." He looked up now at Nelson and Chip. "This is why I came to you, Admiral. If Crane is to be rescued, you must be the ones to do it."

Nelson was speechless. After all the sacrifices Lee Crane had made on ONI's behalf, they were willing to let him rot in some Eastern European hell hole? Well, maybe it wasn't so surprising thought Nelson grimly. It would create quite a scandal if word of Vandergriff's betrayal of one ONI's most successful agents leaked out. If no one knew what happened to Crane, Vandergriff could be quietly dismissed from his post with no one being the wiser. The reputation of the intelligence organization would remain intact. Intelligence was a cutthroat business and no one was considered indispensable.

"All right," Nelson growled lowering himself back into his seat. "We'll need information. How can we get in contact with your agent in Trebisov? We'll need his help if we're to rescue Lee."

For once Johnson seemed sure of himself. He pulled a file out of his briefcase and placed it on Nelson's desk. "I took the liberty of contacting him myself," he said quickly. "His name is Colonel Valenkov. He is in the secret police. He has informed me that they will be transferring Crane to the Secret Police headquarters in Podgorica near the Adriatic on the 20th. Apparently the police feel they will have more success in breaking Crane in their own territory." Nelson flinched at Johnson's cavalier attitude. This was _Lee Crane_ he was talking about, not some faceless agent! Johnson continued oblivious to Nelson's ire. "Valenkov says that if you can have men hidden _here,_" he pointed to a road on the map he had removed from the file, "He can make sure Crane is lightly guarded and you should have no trouble ambushing the vehicle. But you will have only this one chance. After that, Valenkov will have no further contact with Crane, and you would be completely on your own."

There were several moments of silence as Chip and Nelson carefully studied the map. A sizable lake was located between Trebisov Prison and Podgorica. The flying sub should be able to land there and it was only a half a mile to the road. If they could set up an ambush along there, it would be relatively simple to get Lee back to the flying sub.

"All right," sighed Nelson running his hand through his hair. "The 20th is only five days from today so we will need to call the crew back."

"But Admiral," protested Chip, "The _Seaview_ can't possibly make it to the Adriatic in that time."

"No, but we certainly can in the flying sub. We can then meet up with the _Seaview _in the Mediterranean. It's going to take some planning to get things ready."

"I suggest you waste no time, Admiral," warned Johnson. "If you miss this opportunity, I doubt Crane will survive long enough for a second attempt. I will contact Colonel Valenkov and let him know you are coming. "

Nelson sat back and eyed Johnson for a moment. "You know Captain Johnson, this will be the end of Vandergriff's career and very possibly your own. In fact, if I have my way, Vandergriff will go to prison for this. "

Johnson froze while gathering his papers, then slumped back into his seat, his face a study in misery. "Yes, Admiral, I know," he said softly. "I will admit, I seriously contemplated doing nothing." He now looked at Nelson. "I am not a bad man, Admiral, despite what you might think of me and neither is Admiral Vandergriff, really. He is a man who loved his grandson very deeply and did what he felt he had to, regardless of how wrong that was. I will do what I can to help you save Captain Crane." With that, the little man clutched his briefcase to his chest and scurried from the room. Nelson and Chip watched him go in silence. Finally Chip turned to the Admiral.

"Do you think he was telling the truth?"

Nelson picked up the map once more and studied it. "We have to believe he is, Chip. We have no other choice. This is the only lead we have on Lee's whereabouts and we can't afford to let it slip away."

Chip nodded and stood. "I'd better start contacting the crew and calling them back."

Nelson considered Chip a moment. "Chip, I want you, Patterson, Kowalski and Sharkey with me on this mission."

Chip turned with a frown. He desperately wanted to go. He often felt so useless waiting onboard the _Seaview _for word of the success or failure of mission but he was also first and foremost the executive officer of the _Seaview_ and with Lee missing, he felt the boat should be his first priority. "Are you sure you want me to go along, sir?" he asked hesitantly. "Don't you want me in command of the _Seaview_?"

"Normally, yes, but I think in this case O'Brien can handle it. It's just a matter of getting the _Seaview_ as close to the Adriatic as possible in the time we have. You heard Johnson, I don't think we can expect much assistance from Lee and I want men I can trust on this mission." He thought a moment. "I know we should take Doc along as well but it's going to be crowded enough at it is on the flying sub. " He smiled ruefully. "Although I'm not sure he'll agree to be left behind."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

After leaving Nelson's office, Captain Johnson hurried to his car and climbed in. Although he knew he'd done the right thing, it didn't make him feel any better. He had actually lied to Nelson about having contacted the ONI director. He knew if he had done so the director would have had Vandergriff's head immediately, and Johnson was determined to at least give the Admiral a chance. Nelson, believing ONI had hung Crane out to dry, would not bother contacting ONI until after he and his men had rescued the captain. That would give Johnson time to contact Admiral Vandergriff and warn him. He slumped a little in his seat and rested his head on the steering wheel. He would also have to confess to his betrayal. But in the meantime, he was faced with a dilemma. If he contacted the Admiral right away, Vandergriff might still be able to thwart Nelson's rescue attempt. On the other hand, if he waited too long, Vandergriff himself could find himself in deep trouble.

Johnson started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He decided he would wait a few days before contacting the Admiral. Vandergriff wouldn't be back until after Crane had hopefully been rescued anyway, but Johnson still wanted to give him enough time to do…what? Escape? Johnson didn't really know what Vandergriff would do once he found out what Johnson had done but he would stand by the Admiral regardless. It was the best he could do. Now, he had to contact Valenkov and do what he could for Lee Crane.

XXXXXXXXXX

Colonel Valenkov stood staring out the window of his office. He had just received a coded message from ONI concerning Captain Crane. He frowned again as he considered his instructions. He was to carry out his plan of understaffing the guards for the transfer. That was clear enough, but apparently it would not be ONI agents coming to rescue the captain but Admiral Nelson, the research scientist. That didn't make much sense. Granted, Crane was the commander of Nelson's submarine but it still seemed odd that Nelson himself would make the rescue attempt. Why not trained agents? Valenkov shrugged and with a little sigh turned back to his desk. There were five files neatly stacked there. These were the other prisoners that would be going along with Crane to the headquarters in Podgorica. Valenkov planned to visit each one just before departure, as was his usual routine, to make sure they were ready to leave. He would use that opportunity to alert Crane. He tapped his desk thoughtfully. Perhaps he had better check on Crane again sooner than that. It wouldn't do to have him die before the transfer. That had happened on more than one occasion, and his superiors did not react well at the loss of potential information the prisoners might have possessed. They were most eager to get the information they were sure Crane carried in his head.

Nodding to himself, Valenkov reached for his hat and headed to the prison.

An hour later he stood outside the cell door impatiently tapping his foot. Again the jailer seemed to battle with the ancient lock. "You are certain this prisoner is still alive?" he barked at the unfortunate man.

"Oh yes, sir!" stammered the jailer finally getting the key to turn. "At least he was yesterday…"

With a grunt of irritation, Valenkov grabbed the lantern, pushed the man out of the way and strode into the cell. He stopped abruptly at the sight before him. If he had not been told the man was alive, Valenkov would have sworn he was looking at a corpse propped against the back wall. Crane's eyes had sunk deep into his haggard face; his parchment-like skin seemed to hang on his emaciated body, and he was covered with bruises and sores. Each wheezing breath seemed to cost Crane more and more of what little strength he had left. Although his eyes were open, they stared dully ahead and Valenkov was uncertain if Crane even knew anyone was there. Cautiously, Valenkov approached the man and crouched before him. "Captain?" he called softly. "Captain Crane! Can you hear me?"

Still laboring for each breath, Crane blinked slowly then struggled to focus on the man before him. He said nothing but simply gazed indifferently at Valenkov. Valenkov gingerly reached forward and touched Crane's arm. He scowled at the indentations his fingers made in the burning skin. Valenkov stood and strode to the cell door where the jailer waited a short distance away. "When was the last time this man was given any water?" he demanded.

The jailer cringed before Valenkov's obvious anger. "I have been ordered to give him a cup a day," he whined, "That is all."

"This man will be dead by morning!" snarled Valenkov. "Look at him! He is so dehydrated his skin looks like that of some ancient mummy! Go bring me a pitcher of water immediately! We want him alive when we take him to Podgorica!" As the jailer scurried away, Valenkov returned quickly to Crane's side.

"Captain," he hissed urgently, "Do you understand me?" Crane sat unmoving for a few moments then gave a slight nod. "Good. You must listen to me carefully. In a few days, you will be moved with several other prisoners to the Secret Police headquarters in Podgorica. Do you understand that?" Slowly Crane nodded. Valenkov gave a small sigh of relief. "Captain, I am a friend. I have notified ONI that you are here, and I have been told that your commander, Admiral Nelson, is arranging a rescue attempt during that transfer."

For the first time, Crane showed some reaction as his eyes widened slightly in surprise. He swallowed painfully. His tongue was so swollen from lack of water speaking was nearly impossible. "The Admiral?" he wheezed between gasping breaths.

"Yes Captain! You must hang on! It will only be a few days more. I realize you are very ill and I will do what I can, but you must not give up hope."

"Don't …know…if…I can," replied Crane with great difficulty. He closed his eyes as if even that small effort had exhausted him completely. At that moment, the jailer returned with a pitcher of water and tin cup. He looked nervously between the Colonel and the prisoner. Valenkov took the cup and filled it with water.

"Captain," he said quietly, "You must drink this slowly." Carefully, Valenkov held the cup to Crane's mouth and slowly allowed him to sip the water. Gratefully, Crane took in as much as he could. Not nearly enough, thought Valenkov grimly. He turned to the jailer. "I want this man given water every hour, do you understand? If he dies, it will be on _your _head! General Tedescu wants this man alive and it your duty to see he stays that way. I will send in a doctor later today." He paused as the jailer gaped at him, then shrugged. "Once he is on his way to Podgorica then he will no longer be our concern, eh?" The jailer smiled uncertainly as Valenkov thrust the cup into his hands. "Remember, keep him alive!"

As Valenkov made his way from the prison he shook his head sadly. Yes, he would send the doctor but it was obvious Crane needed more than a shot of antibiotics to save him. But, if they could keep him alive for just three more days and then into the hands of Admiral Nelson, perhaps Crane would survive. Well, he would do what he could but this entire set-up seemed off and Valenkov would be relieved when Crane was no longer his responsibility.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Admiral Nelson adjusted his throat mike to a more comfortable position as the flying sub cruised silently through the night. He, Chip and the others had traveled all of the way to the mouth of the Mediterranean in the _Seaview_ and then flown the FS1 to the naval airbase in Italy the day before their mission. Now, it would take less than two hours for them to reach their destination in Serbia. Timing would be tricky as they had to be sure they arrived before the prisoner's truck reached the ambush site. Nelson had felt some sense of relief when Johnson informed him the day before that Valenkov had been in contact and would carry out his part of the mission. He would try and make sure there were no more than 2 or 3 men guarding the prisoners. He would also schedule the departure to ensure they reached the ambush site around midnight. This should give Nelson and his party adequate time to fly into Serbia and reach the road in time to prepare.

Nelson glanced at his crew. Chip sat in the adjacent co-pilot seat staring moodily into the night. Behind him sat Chief Sharkey and crewmen Patterson and Kowalski. All four had participated in a number of covert activities in the past, and Nelson knew he could trust all of them implicitly. He smiled briefly as he recalled how eager each one had been to join the rescue party. They all respected Captain Crane immensely and were more than willing to risk their lives to save his – just as he had risked his many times in the past to save theirs. Each bore a look of serious determination. If there was any hope of getting Captain Crane out alive, these would be the men to do it. Dr. Jamison had also argued to be allowed to accompany the party but Nelson didn't want to risk him. By the time they left Serbia, the _Seaview_ should be just a few miles off the coast and Jamie would have all the time and equipment he needed to take care of the Captain. Jamie hadn't been happy about the decision but vowed he'd be more than ready when they returned. Nelson hoped his services wouldn't be necessary, but he also knew that was unlikely to be the case.

He checked his watch. Only twenty more minutes to go before landing. Fortunately they would be arriving in a sparsely settled rural area so he hoped their arrival wouldn't be too obvious. The lake was only a few miles inland so they wouldn't have to travel far into the countryside.

"Admiral," reported Chip quietly, "I believe that's the lake dead ahead." Everyone leaned toward the forward windows. Nelson nodded. He could see a black expanse of water and knew that was their destination. They would land on the northeastern shore of the lake. Valenkov had given them the coordinates for a protected cove that would allow easy access to the shore. He glanced at his watch. It was almost ten. That would give them a good two hours to land and get into position, assuming Valenkov's time table was accurate.

Thirty minutes later they found themselves on the shore. For the moment, Sharkey would remain with the FS1. Nelson wanted to the sub to be ready for immediate launch as soon as they returned with the captain.

Silently, Nelson, Chip, Patterson, and Kowalski made their way towards where they believed the road to be. It was a bitter moonless night, and visibility was minimal. Because of the dense underbrush, the trip was slower than Nelson would have liked, but at least the bushes would provide some cover. They had just crested a hill when Chip hissed, "Admiral! The road!" The men crouched down and carefully crawled to the edge of a narrow single-lane road. It had seen better days. The asphalt was cracked and broken with extensive pot-holes liberally distributed across its battered surface.

"All right, men," whispered Nelson reaching for his pack. "Take these and place them across the road." He handed each of them several long, spiked devices frequently used by police to pierce the tires of fleeing criminals. It was Nelson's hope they would disable the vehicle and allow them to rescue the prisoners. Carefully they placed the devices, camouflaging them as best they could. Once Nelson was satisfied, they crept back into the cover of the brush, placed their firearms within easy reach and settled down to wait.

To Nelson, the wait seemed endless. He fretted constantly that they had already missed the truck or that Lee wouldn't be on it. He knew he was being foolish, but he had been worried for so long and was now so close to finding his friend, he couldn't help but be anxious. "Admiral!" warned Kowalski as a low rumbling sound could be heard in the distance. Chip and Patterson had crossed to the other side of the road and with the sound of an approaching vehicle, the men all rose to their feet in preparation for attack. _I hope this isn't the wrong truck,_ thought Nelson suddenly. He glanced again at his watch it was five minutes to midnight. This _must_ be the right one. He took a deep breath and grasped his gun more firmly. It was time.

Seemingly oblivious to the icy, cratered surface of the road, the driver of the truck from Trebisov charged along at a breakneck speed. The driver had the radio on and was singing along with the latest pop song. He had driven this route many times. The only traffic was from the prison, so he wasn't worried about encountering any other vehicles at this time of night. Tonight was an especially easy run he thought absently. This bunch of prisoners was so beaten down no one seemed concerned they'd try to escape. One of them was so bad they had to carry him from the prison and actually toss him into the truck. The driver shook his head. He wouldn't want to be any of those unfortunate souls. Only Stefan was back there with them, but the prisoners were well chained and Stefan was armed, so neither guard worried that this trip would be anything but routine.

As he reached down to snag his thermos of coffee there was a loud bang almost like gunfire. The driver felt the truck lurch across the road. Desperately he fought with the wheel to maintain control of the vehicle but it seemed to have a mind of its own. Hitting a pothole at 45 mph, the truck bounced up and flipped onto its side, sparks flying as it careened down the road. The driver was thrown from the truck and lay still.

Nelson and his men stared in dismay as the truck slammed into a tree alongside the road with a bone-jarring crash. For a moment, no one moved. Bodies were strewn across the pavement where they had been thrown from the back of the covered truck and smoke poured from the engine. "Come on!" cried Nelson as he rushed towards the road. The men turned on their flashlights and surveyed the wreckage. Patterson and Kowalski quickly located the guards where they lay. They were either dead or unconscious. Either way, they would cause no problems. The men collected the guards' guns and then moved to pick up the tire deflation strips they had strewn across the road. No reason to make it obvious the truck had been ambushed.

There were three prisoners lying on the pavement and although dazed and bruised, they didn't seem seriously injured. Nelson left them to Patterson and Kowalski as he and Chip hurried on to the truck. They could see three bodies tangled together in the back. Pain-filled moans told Nelson that at least some of them were alive. Kowalski joined him. "Pat found the keys to the irons on one of the guards," he reported, "and thought we might need this." He held up a small silver key.

Nelson nodded gratefully and watched as Chip and Kowalski climbed into the truck. It was lying on its side with the victims sprawled across the canvas of the truck's cover. Gently, the two began to separate the tangled bodies. One cried out in pain as Chip rolled him away from the others. "I'm sorry!" said the exec flinching.

Panting in pain, the man's eyes widened in surprise. "You are Americans?"

Chip hesitated, "We're here to rescue our friend," he muttered noncommittally. It was then that he spied Lee under the second man. For a moment, he didn't even recognize him. "Lee!" There was no response. "Kowalski! Help me get these men out of here!"

Quickly, the seaman reached down, lifted the first man and laid him on the ground near the others. He went for the second but Nelson just shook his head. One of them hadn't survived the accident. Kowalski looked at the third man, frowned for a moment then gasped, "Skipper!" He was shocked. He had seen the Skipper return more dead than alive from a number of ONI missions but never had he looked this bad. He turned to the admiral and wasn't surprised at the look of anguish on the older man's face. "Is…is he dead, sir?"

Nelson looked to Chip who gave himself a little shake, grateful to be pulled out of his state of shock. He reached down and after several anxious moments finally located a weak, erratic pulse. With a small sigh of relief he looked to the other men and nodded. Lee was still alive, but just barely. They had to get him back to _Seaview _immediately. Chip took the key from Kowalski and gently removed the heavy shackles from Lee's bloodied wrists. Nelson stood and looked at the four men sitting on the road. What should he do with them? Slowly, the one who had spoken previously stood up cradling his arm. "Sir," he said quietly to Nelson. "I do not know who you are but we are grateful to you. We would surely have died if we had reached Podgorica. We are not criminals. Our only crimes were fighting against the tyranny we face here. Do not worry about us. We know this country well and will find assistance among our own people. We will survive to continue the fight." He paused now and studied the form of Captain Crane now cradled in Kowalski's arms. "I am not sure I can say the same for your friend. I hope your efforts will not have been in vain, but we will forever be in your debt." His companions had joined them, two supporting the third. Together all four bowed stiffly then turned and began to make their way into the countryside. The Americans watched them disappear then exchanged looks. At least they had helped someone, now they must try and rescue their own.

"All right," barked Nelson. "Let's get back to the flying sub!" They had just turned towards the lake when the truck erupted in a fiery explosion sending out a fusillade of burning debris and hurling the men roughly to the ground. They huddled there for several moments uncertain if the explosions were finished. Finally, Nelson lifted his head and seeing that things weren't going to get any worse, clambered to his feet. The burning remains of the truck lay scattered across the landscape. Nelson quickly slapped out a couple of smoking spots on his jacket and looked to his men. Kowalski, his face full of dismay, was gently lifting the captain from the ground. "It's all right, Kowalski," Nelson said quietly, "I doubt you could hurt him any worse than he is now. Get going." Nodding uncertainly, Kowalski positioned the captain more firmly in his arms and headed towards the lake.

"Admiral," called Patterson softly. He was crouched near the still form of Chip Morton. Nelson felt a cold chill.

"What's wrong?"

"I think he was hit in the head by this," replied Patterson indicating large chunk of metal lying nearby. Nelson examined Chip's head and could see blood staining the blond hair on the back of his skull. It looked nasty and Nelson was sure that Chip had sustained at least a concussion.

"All right, Patterson," sighed Nelson wearily, "Let's get him back to the _Seaview. _Doc will be busy tonight." Together, they lifted Chip from the ground and turned to follow Kowalski.

Patterson froze, listening intently. "Sir!" he hissed urgently, "I think we'd better hurry. I can hear another vehicle approaching!" Nelson turned his head and looked up the road towards the prison. He could see headlights in the distance.

"Damn!" he muttered, "Come on!" Awkwardly, they pushed their way through the trees and brush trying to reach the lake as quickly as possible. It wasn't long before they heard the sound of the second vehicle approach the crash site. This was followed by loud voices.

"Do you think they'll come looking for us, sir?" panted Patterson adjusting Chip's arm more securely over his shoulder. Nelson paused trying to make out any sounds of a search. With the truck destroyed, the men, whoever they were, wouldn't know for sure that any of the prisoners had actually escaped and the two guards were left on the road.

"I don't know, but we don't want to take any chances. Come on!" They continued on blundering through the dense underbrush and slipping on the icy ground. The trip was made even more difficult by the dead weight of Chip's unconscious form. Despite the deep cold of the night both men were sweating profusely by the time they caught up with Kowalski.

He had been moving quickly towards them as silently as possible. He sighed in relief as he trotted to a halt. "Admiral," he gasped catching his breath, "We have company!"

Nelson's face twisted in anger and frustration. There must have been more than he realized. "How many and where?" he demanded tersely.

Kowalski wiped the sweat from his brow. "There must have been three or four of them. I heard them coming from the direction of the road and they were moving pretty fast towards the lake. I stashed the skipper in some dense shrubs, but it wouldn't take much for them to find him."

"Were we betrayed, sir?" asked Patterson hesitantly.

"It's beginning to look that way." Nelson quickly considered their situation. They had to get Chip and Lee to the flying sub and back to _Seaview _as quickly as possible but with a search party in the area, moving two injured men without alerting the patrol's attention would be very difficult. He touched the walkie-talkie on his belt. Should he contact Sharkey and warn him?

"Shh!" warned Kowalski ducking down. "I can hear them getting closer!"

Instinctively, Nelson and Patterson lowered Chip to the ground as they themselves strove to make themselves invisible. Not far ahead, they could hear voices approaching. Nelson hardly dared to breathe. The men must have seen something to cause them to circle away from the lake so soon. Things were rapidly going from bad to worse.

XXXXXXXXXX

Lee shivered in his brushy den. He moaned softly as he slowly regained consciousness. He was confused. When he opened his eyes, he saw not the rough stone of his cell's floor but what appeared to be dirt and dead branches. He blinked and moved slightly. It hurt of course. It always hurt, but pain had long since become part of his daily existence although he felt like he had pain in new places now. They must have been beating him again he decided. _Nice I can't remember much these days. _Still he was curious; he had no idea where he was or how he had come to be here. He didn't think he had the strength to sit up and just breathing alone seemed to take an enormous amount of effort. So, he assumed he wasn't dead. If he was, he thought distantly, the afterworld was grossly overrated.

Gradually he became aware of voices and footsteps. His agonized breathing seemed so loud in his ears that he was sure it could be heard for miles. He tried to muffle the noise but it was hopeless. The footsteps stopped nearby and a light shone into the brush. A voice cried out and was soon joined by another. _Guess the game is over,_ Lee mused. _It would seem they have found me. _He didn't feel bothered by this. Nothing seemed to bother him anymore. It occurred to Lee that he was undoubtedly dying, and he was oddly at peace at this thought. He regretted not getting to see his mother or his friends again, but he was tired of the pain and of fighting. A moment later several hands grabbed him and pulled him roughly from the shelter of his lair. He cried out in agony as the men hauled him to his feet. A third man stood watching.

If the two men had not maintained a firm grip on Lee, he would have collapsed. He was having difficulty focusing on the man before him. The world was spinning crazily around him and if he had anything in his stomach, he would have been sick. The man said something but Lee didn't understand. The man shook his head in disgust and repeated more slowly, "Where are the others?"

Others? Lee frowned. Maybe if his head stopped throbbing and the world would sit still he could think, but somehow he didn't believe that would make much difference. Regardless, he had no idea what the man was talking about. The last thing he remembered was being put in shackles in preparation for his transfer. He couldn't even recall leaving the cell. The man took a step closer and brutally backhanded Lee across the face. Lee's vision went black for a few moments. "I _said," _snapped the man, "_where_ are the others?"

Reeling from the blow, Lee took a breath to respond but was instantly immobilized by deep, wracking coughs. His knees buckled and the men holding him lost their grip, allowing him to crumple unceremoniously to the ground. The third man spat in disgust and landed a firm kick to Lee's stomach. With a low moan, Lee felt something give and as pain enveloped him, he welcomed the accompanying darkness.

XXXXXXXXXX

Leaving Patterson with Chip, Nelson and Kowalski silently crept towards the voices. It was with a growing sense of horror that that they observed the soldiers drag Lee from his hiding place. Nelson had to restrain Kowalski from immediately leaping out and rescuing the captain. Nelson knew there were more men in the area and however they stopped these soldiers, it had to be done without alerting the others. He tried to get a better look at Lee. Crane had been conscious at first, although obviously too weak to stand unaided, but now he lay still on the ground. Nelson feared he would die long before they could get him to sickbay. Time was running out.

The two men turned as they detected a soft rustle behind them, guns at the ready. It was Patterson. "Everyone seems to be returning to the road," he whispered then froze as he spied the skipper lying at the feet of the three soldiers.

The third soldier stared down at Lee's unconscious form with growing irritation. He knew there had to be others around. It was impossible that this man, as weak and ill as he so obviously was, could have made it this far on his own. There had been six prisoners on that truck and if this one survived, obviously the others might have as well. He would be in serious trouble if he didn't round them up. Well, in the meantime, at least he had this one. He signaled the others to pick up the prisoner. They would return to the truck and perhaps return in the morning with dogs to find the others. They couldn't get far.

It was as the men were bending down to seize Lee that Nelson gave the signal. He, Patterson and Kowalski leapt out from the brush and pounced upon the unsuspecting soldiers. Unable to grab their weapons, the two soldiers were helpless against the onslaught. The third turned in shock only to be laid out by a strong right hook from Kowalski's fist. Soon, all three were lying stunned on the path.

Fearing the worst, Nelson knelt down beside Lee and gently placed his fingers just beneath Lee's jaw. It took several moments before he found the weak, thready pulse. He slumped in relief. Nelson stood up. "Kowalski, take the Captain to the flying sub immediately. Patterson and I will go get Chip. Chief Sharkey should have the FS1 ready to take off but let him know we need to go the minute we're all aboard. Understand?"

"Aye, sir!" Kowalski knelt down and again lifted the limp form of his commander. He couldn't bear to look into the skipper's gaunt, battered face. Silently he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Patterson and Nelson hurried back to Chip. The XO was beginning to show signs of regaining consciousness. "Chip!" called Nelson quietly, "Can you hear me?"

Chip groaned and tried to sit up. Immediately, he turned and vomited. His head felt ready to explode. "Easy Chip," murmured the admiral gently supporting him. Chip closed his eyes and took a few shuddering breaths. "Do you think you can stand?" Nelson asked anxiously. They needed to get moving.

"I…I think so," mumbled Chip holding his throbbing head. "What happened?"

With Patterson to assist him, Nelson was able to get the unsteady Chip to his feet. "We'll explain all that later. Right now, we've got to get out of here!" Without protest, Chip allowed the others to guide him through the brush. All he really wanted to do was lie down and go back to sleep but he could feel the admiral's growing sense of urgency and hurried as quickly as he was able.

With Chip offering at least some semblance of help, Nelson and Patterson made much better time and both sighed in relief as they spied Kowalski waiting anxiously by the raft.

"Did you get Lee into the Flying Sub all right?" asked Nelson as they assisted Chip into the raft.

"Yes, sir," replied Kowalski shoving off. He hesitated. "I just hope he makes it. I've never seen him look that bad."

Nelson just nodded his thoughts with his captain. This might have finally been the mission that finally took the life of Lee Crane.

A/N: Hope everyone is enjoying this story. I will continue to post a couple of chapters a day until it's done. For those of you who have taken the time to review, thank you so much! It's always good to have feedback.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Dr. Jamison paced anxiously across the control room. Admiral Nelson had just notified them that they were on their way to rendezvous with the _Seaview, _and that they had two injured men. The crew had cheered when Nelson reported they had rescued the captain but now they were silent, as apprehensive as the doctor. Jamison froze as he heard the distinct sound of the FS1 entering its berth below the control room. He had two stretchers and volunteers to carry them standing by. The minutes seemed to drag by when at last the hatch to the flying sub slowly lifted revealing Patterson's tousled head. He quickly climbed out then turned to assist the man behind him.

"Careful, sir," he cautioned as he firmly grabbed onto Chip Morton's arm helping to ease him onto the deck. Dr. Jamison moved quickly to his side and gave the pale XO a cursory examination. Sharkey had carefully wrapped gauze around Chip's head to help staunch the bleeding and Jamison didn't think he was in any immediate danger. He signaled to the two men hovering behind him and they moved Chip onto one of the waiting stretchers.

"I can walk!" Chip protested weakly but truthfully, he rather doubted it. Just making it up the ladder had almost been more than he could handle. It was a relief to be lying down once more but he had a reputation to consider.

Jamison gave a rueful grin as he covered Chip with a blanket. "Mr. Morton, I think you'll ride this time. I don't need you keeling over and doing more damage." He then nodded to the men who hurried off towards sick bay. Jamison turned back to the hatch. The other stretcher had been lowered into the sub to receive the unconscious captain.

The men in the control room now moved closer, trying to get a glimpse of the skipper as he was lifted out of the flying sub. Jamison felt his stomach clench as he got his first look at the emaciated figure strapped tightly to the stretcher. This was much worse than he had expected. He laid a hand on Crane's forehead and frowned at the heat emanating from his skin. _He must have a fever of at least 103º_ he thought grimly.

"Get him down to sick bay right away," he ordered. The crewmen manning the stretcher pushed their way through the silent throng of crewmen. No one said a word as they watched Crane pass. They were appalled by what they saw. _He looks like a prisoner just released from a Nazi death camp,_ thought Jamison as he followed the stretcher. _God help him._

Nelson climbed out just in time to see Doc disappear through the hatchway. "Will they be all right, sir?" asked Mr. O'Brien hesitantly. Nelson looked at the men's expectant faces and sighed.

"I hope so." And with that he turned and headed toward sickbay.

Jamison arrived in time to see his assistant, Frank helping Chip onto a gurney. Jamison strode over to take a quick look at Chip's head. "We'll need to clean that up," he told Frank after removing the bloodstained bandages. "He'll need stitches and some x-rays. I suspect he's got a severe concussion but I don't think we're looking at a fracture. However we'd better make sure." Frank nodded and began work.

"Doc!" cried John, his other assistant. Jamison hurried over to where they were now moving the captain onto a second gurney. John pointed to the pool of blood collected on the stretcher. "He's soaked in it!"

"Quick," ordered Jamison, "Get his clothing off. He may have been wounded." As they cut away Crane's blood-soaked clothing Jamison examined Lee's battered, wasted body. He saw no evidence of gunshot wounds but he felt his blood run cold just the same. Across the Captain's chest and abdomen was a distinctive red rash.

"What is that?" asked John frowning. "Some kind of allergic reaction?"

"No," replied Jamison still staring at the rash. "Typhoid."

John turned and stared at him wide-eyed. "Typhoid _fever_?"

Jamison nodded grimly and now knew why the Captain was losing blood. One of the classic complications of advanced typhoid was a perforated intestinal wall. If they didn't get him into surgery quickly, in his current state he would shortly bleed to death. Barking orders, they prepped Crane for surgery, hooking him up to an IV and oxygen then rushed him from the room. "Put out a call for A positive blood," Jamison called to Frank as they hurried by. "We're going to need it." Frank and Chip watched with pale faces as the three disappeared.

A short time later, Admiral Nelson hurried into sickbay. He was relieved to see Chip lying quietly asleep in one of the racks against the wall but was disturbed to see no sign of the captain. Frank was just about to leave to round up some blood donors when he spied the admiral.

"How are they?" Nelson asked quietly.

Frank nodded towards Chip. "Mr. Morton should be fine. He's got 12 stitches in his head and I just looked at the x-rays. They look clear. Doc still needs to check them, but he suspects it's a severe concussion. "

"And the Captain?"

With a worried frown, Frank looked towards the surgical bay. "I'm not sure but I think I heard Doc say something about him having typhoid and that his intestine was perforated. Doc's working on him now. The skipper was bleeding badly and I'm on my way to go find some blood donors."

"Oh! Don't let me stop you then. I'll just wait here with Mr. Morton." Frank nodded and hurried off. Nelson stood silently for a moment, his head bowed and shoulders slumped. He was exhausted but needed to know how Lee was. Wearily he moved a chair near Chip's bunk and sat. Nelson looked over a Chip's wan face, his head neatly swathed in bandages. Thank God he would be all right.

The wait was almost unbearable. Frank returned sometime later with several crewmen in tow. One by one he set them up for blood donations. With each bag he filled he hurried into the surgery suite and passed it off to John. The captain was absorbing each unit of blood as it came. Nelson grew more anxious with each passing moment.

At long last, Jamison appeared through the door of the surgical bay. As he pulled off his mask, Nelson could see the exhaustion and concern etched in the doctor's face. Nelson stood and waited.

Jamison wearily rubbed his eyes and sighed. He could see the admiral anxiously waiting for his report and he certainly wished he had better news.

"Well Doc? How is he?" Nelson said moving closer to Jamison.

"He's alive, but that's about the only positive thing I can say," replied Jamison. "He went into cardiac arrest twice on the table but we were able to bring him back." Nelson felt himself go cold. Jamison sighed and continued. "He has an advanced case of typhoid fever. His intestinal wall was perforated by the infection and he has lost a lot of blood. Because of that he is in serious danger of developing peritonitis. He also has pneumonia and a collapsed lung. Several of his ribs are broken, His spleen is enlarged and damaged, probably from a recent beating. He has a nasty bruise right above the site on his abdomen. He was bleeding from there as well. His arm was broken some time ago and shows limited signs of healing but is badly infected and will eventually need to be reset properly. At the moment, I'm just hoping he won't lose it. He is severely dehydrated and showing signs of kidney failure. I have him on a respirator and we may have to start him on dialysis if his kidney function doesn't show sign of improvement soon."

Jamison paused to allow Nelson to digest this much.

"There's more?"

Jamison looked more tired than ever. "He's obviously been tortured. They nearly flayed the skin off his back. He has some lacerations that go clear down to the bone and of course it's all infected. He's covered in bruises and contusions. He currently has a fever of a 104.3° and we're working to bring that down. I'm pumping him full of fluids as fast as he can take them as well as an assortment of antibiotics."

The two men stood in silence for a few moments. "What are his chances?" Nelson asked with effort.

Jamison glanced back at the recovery area where John was just now wheeling the captain. "Admiral, I haven't figured out why he isn't dead! But, this is Lee Crane we're talking about and more than once I've given up on him only to have him prove me wrong. All I can say is, we need to wait and see. His body is fighting so many different things, any one of which could kill him. He doesn't have many resources left. You've seen how thin he is. He is nothing but skin and bones. I doubt they fed him much, but he wouldn't have had any appetite regardless. "

Nelson nodded slowly, his face a study in despair. He'd had a good look at Lee on the FS1 and knew just how bad the captain was. Now, he reluctantly approached the gurney where Lee lay connected to a variety of machines. Nelson gently laid his hand on top of unconscious captain's and gave it a gentle squeeze. Crane was like a son to him and it was becoming harder and harder for Nelson to adjust to these life and death situations concerning the _Seaview's _captain.

"Admiral," said Jamison quietly, "There's nothing you can do for him right now. He isn't going to wake any time soon and you're exhausted. Please. Go back to your cabin and grab a few hours of sleep. With both Lee and Chip out of commission, _Seaview_ needs you more than ever. If there is any change in either one of them, I'll notify you immediately."

Nelson said nothing. He _was _exhausted, God knew. Even now he felt on the verge of collapse but it was so hard to just leave. Yet, he did recognize the wisdom of the doctor's words. He wouldn't do anyone any good if he became incapacitated. O'Brien was a good enough officer but he had been left on his own for too long, plus Nelson didn't know if there would be any sort of retaliation from the Serbian government for their clandestine mission. He doubted it, but he realized it was important that at least one senior officer be in fighting form. He heaved a deep sigh and nodded. "You're right, Doc," he admitted. "I've had it. I'll try and grab a few hours sack time." He paused. "But notify me the _minute_ there is any change!"

"Yes, sir. I will."

Nelson again looked down at Lee's gaunt, ashen face. The hiss of the respirator sent a shiver down the admiral's spine. He knew without it, Lee might already be dead. Nelson again patted Lee's hand and turned to leave. He stopped for a moment by Chip's bunk and laid a hand briefly on the exec's shoulder. That both of these young men should be here together was a heavy burden on Nelson's heart. So, with weary steps, Nelson silently disappeared through the sickbay door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Jamison watched as Nelson vanished. Suddenly, the admiral looked old. The stress of the captain's disappearance and now this near-disastrous rescue had taken a toll on Nelson. Jamison was relieved that Nelson had actually agreed to go get some sleep. He needed rest to deal with whatever the future might hold.

The doctor took a few steps to Chip's side and quickly checked his vital signs. They looked good. Frank silently handed him Chip's x-rays. With a practiced eye, Jamison studied the images. He had seen enough skull series from the injuries this crew sustained to know immediately what to look for. Fortunately, these too looked good – no sign of a fracture. Chip would certainly have a nasty headache for some time but he should be able to return to duty in a few days.

He then turned and headed back to the captain's side. Crane's blood pressure was still lower than Jamison liked but considerably better than it had been. They would continue to give him blood and other fluids and hopefully the numbers would improve. He studied the readout on the heart monitor. Crane's heart was continuing to show signs of arrhythmia. "No change in his temperature, Doc," reported John quietly handing Jamison Crane's chart. "Still over 104."

Jamison was not happy with what he saw. John had taken blood and urine samples and the results of the completed tests were now in the file. They were all bad. His blood chemistry was off the charts reinforcing Jamison's concern about kidney failure. They would have to start dialysis before the toxins in the blood accumulated any further. They were already at dangerous levels. As he turned to return the file to John, Jamison froze as the cardiac monitor alarm shrilled beside them. Grabbing the defibrillator waiting nearby, Jamison glanced at his assistant. "It looks like it's going to be a long day," he sighed.

It was early evening before Nelson returned to sickbay. Despite several hours of sleep and a few bites of dinner, he still felt exhausted. He had hoped to be back sooner than this, but his body had had other ideas. He first spied Chip supported by several pillows, half-heartedly looking through some journals. The exec's face lit up when he observed the admiral making his way over to Chip's bunk.

"How are you feeling, Chip?" Nelson asked with a small grin. It was obvious that after only a few hours in sickbay, Chip was bored.

"Well sir," he grumbled, "I'd insist on leaving but every time I try to stand up, I either start to pass out or feel like throwing up. I could live with the headache, but those other things are little tougher to deal with."

"Well Chip, it's probably for the best. You took a pretty nasty hit to the head. A few days in sickbay will be good for you."

Chip scowled. "I certainly hope it won't be a few days! I'm already going stir crazy!" Nelson gave Chip an encouraging pat on the shoulder and looked around.

"How's Lee?"

Chip looked grim. "Not so good. He went into cardiac arrest a couple of times earlier today, and they had to put him on dialysis a short while ago."

Nelson's jaw clenched in anger. Every time he thought about the events that had brought Lee to this point, he could feel his fury threaten to explode. He looked up as he heard Dr. Jamison enter the room. The doctor looked done in; his eyes sunken in dark circles of fatigue.

"Doc?" Nelson took a step towards Jamison.

Jamison blinked a few times as if he were having trouble remembering where he was. "Oh, Admiral! I'm sorry. I didn't see you there." He rubbed a hand across his stubbled chin.

"How is he?" Nelson asked hesitantly, never taking his eyes from the doctor's face.

Jamison sighed. "Well, he's still alive and believe me, after today, that's saying a lot. He's still very critical but at least his blood pressure is almost within normal limits, and we've gotten his temperature down to about 101º. He's still on the respirator and we're doing dialysis right now. His kidneys should start working on their own again soon, but the toxins in his blood had reached a critical level, and I didn't want to wait any longer."

Nelson waited a moment for more. When Jamison remained silent, Nelson said, "Chip said he'd gone into cardiac arrest."

Jamison nodded wearily. "Yes, that's right. This morning, after we brought him out of surgery his heart developed serious arrhythmia and we had a hard time getting it back to normal. I honestly thought we had lost him the last time it happened." He smiled slightly. "But you know the Captain – he's tough. Doesn't give up easily."

Nelson nodded but the apprehension was still there. "Can I see him?"

"In a bit," replied Jamison looking at his watch. "When he's done with the dialysis. It should only be about 15 more minutes. In the meantime, maybe you can entertain Mr. Morton here."

"I don't need entertaining," grumbled Chip petulantly "I need to get out of here!"

"Mr. Morton," replied Jamison firmly, "You can't even stand up with keeling over. What on earth makes you think I would let you out of here any time soon?" Shaking his head in exasperation the doctor turned and left to check on the captain's progress.

Nelson sighed and moved a chair closer to Chip's bunk. The exec was still muttering irritably under his breath. Nelson ignored him knowing that it was just Chip's way of venting his anxiety about Lee. Nelson had little doubt that even if he wasn't confined to sickbay by his own injury, Chip would have been here anyway awaiting news of his friend. So now, they would wait together.

XXXXXXXXXX

Lee remembered little of those days. He woke once to a fever-fueled nightmare world where it appeared the walls were melting and a monster with a lobster's head and Doc's voice towered over him. He vaguely recalled crying out and trying to pull away before darkness overtook him once more. Occasionally he would drift briefly into consciousness at the sound of voices but it was just too hard to hold on to and Lee would soon retreat back into his own dark and pain-free world.

"Lee."

A voice was calling him. Lee frowned. The voice sounded familiar but he had no desire to wake to the misery and suffering that had become such a prominent part of his existence.

"Lee, wake up!" the voice insisted softly. Lee kept his eyes firmly shut attempting to regain his sanctuary of oblivion. It was harder now and he was becoming increasingly aware of the pain in his body. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? "Come on, Lee. You need to wake up now!" With a low moan and great effort, Lee forced his eyes open. Admiral Nelson and Dr. Jamison stood over him, anxiously watching his every move. The admiral smiled in relief as Lee's bleary eyes attempted to focus. "That's it, Lee," he said encouragingly, "Wake up!"

Lee blinked in confusion. Where was he? The last place he clearly remembered was his prison cell. He frowned again. No, wait. He had been in a truck. They had been taking him someplace. He closed his eyes again. "No, Captain!" came the doctor's firm voice, "Stay with us!" Lee opened his eyes again. He moved slightly and gasped in pain. He suddenly became fully aware of all the aches and pains throughout his battered body. Even breathing hurt and his throat felt raw. He tried to speak but nothing came out.

"Take it easy, Skipper," said Doc, "we just removed the respirator a short while ago. Don't try to talk yet. Do you understand me?" Lee gave a small nod. That hurt too. Gently the doctor lifted Lee's head and held a glass to his lips. "Here Captain, this might help." Lee sighed in ecstasy as the cool water made its way down his parched throat. Nothing had ever tasted so good!

"Not too fast!" cautioned the doctor moving the glass away. He replaced Lee's head on the pillow and stood back. Lee's eyes were closed again. It was obvious he had fallen asleep once more.

Nelson frowned and looked to the doctor. "Shouldn't we keep him awake?"

Jamison gave a slight smile and shook his head. "No, he's sleeping normally now. He'll begin to stay awake for increasing periods of time now that his fever has broken. Those antibiotics have finally started to make some real headway. It will be a long time before he's fit for duty, but barring any relapses, he should recover."

"Relapses?"

Jamison nodded. "Typhoid has a nasty tendency to make a comeback as long as a month after the patient seems to have recovered. Although the relapse is generally milder than the initial attack, if the patient is still weak from the initial infection, the second attack can still be very dangerous if not treated in time. But, I don't think we'll have to worry about that. We'll be keeping an eye on him."

"So, he's doing better?" called a voice from a nearby bunk. Jamison turned to his other patient. Chip was sitting up in his bunk looking on with interest. He was doing much better and Jamison would be releasing him the next day to light duty. The headache was still present but much less severe and the nausea and dizzy spells had all but disappeared. Now, Chip was just bored and fretful, anxious to get back to doing something productive.

"Yes, he's showing a lot of improvement today," replied Jamison replacing Lee's chart. He smiled. "I think he'll live."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Lee's recovery was slow but steady. Once the _Seaview _had returned to Santa Barbara, Lee was transferred to the clinic at the Nelson Institute. He had spent more than his fair share there, and the staff was always a bit leery when they knew Captain Crane was being brought in. He was not known as a model patient. This time, however, Lee seemed content to remain in the hospital while his body healed. This last episode had taken far more out of him than he liked to admit. It disturbed him that he had reached the point where death seemed preferable to living.

Admiral Vandergriff and his adjutant, Captain Johnson, had disappeared. Nelson had been even more furious when he found out that Johnson had lied about contacting the ONI director. If Nelson had known that, ONI operatives could have rescued Lee much sooner. The Director had been adamant that ONI had no knowledge of Lee's so-called mission and was appalled when he had learned of it.

"I'm sorry, Harriman," Admiral Kerr had said, "I had no idea that Jacob Vandergriff had some kind of vendetta going against Lee Crane. You know I wouldn't have sent Crane anywhere without talking to you first. I wish I had known about this sooner. We could have had him out of there in no time! We're doing our best to track Vandergriff down though it might take some time. Evidence points to him having left the country, but I'll let you know as soon as we've found him."

Lee sighed as he thought about everything that had happened. Admiral Nelson had discussed with Lee what Johnson had told them about Matthew Harrison. Lee shook his head as he stared out the window into the hospital grounds. He'd barely known Matthew before their one mission together. Yes, he had been a very gifted cryptographer, Lee admitted, but a complete idiot as well. Lee felt a pang of guilt. He had been positive Matthew was dead when he left him and to find out now the cryptographer had still had a spark of life left in him had been devastating to Lee. Matthew shouldn't have died because of that mission. There was no excuse for it and even though Lee knew it was due to Matthew's own arrogance and stupidity, he still felt personally responsible. He had been in charge and he should never have let his guard down. Lee just hadn't expected his own partner to brain him. And to think his current situation was all because Matthew's _grandfather _had vowed to get revenge. It was just insane. _Well, _thought Lee grimly, _fortunately he didn't succeed._

Lee had been in the hospital for three weeks now and although still weak, he was able to get up and move around more every day. His arm was healing well as were his broken ribs. Even the lacerations across his back were causing him less and less discomfort. Dr. Jamison was pleased with his progress and promised him that if he continued this way, he could go home in a few more days. Lee gave a small grunt of amusement. He hadn't even asked to get out of the hospital and here Jamison was offering him a "get out of jail free" card. The ironic thing was Lee wasn't sure he was ready to use it.

"Lee?"

Lee looked up to see Chip standing in the doorway. "Morning, Chip," Lee smiled, greeting his friend and executive officer. "How are things in the real world?"

Chip gave a short laugh as he pulled up a chair. "Same as usual. We've got some problems in the torpedo firing system, but Chief 's got some men working on that as well as installing the new sonar equipment. Nothing too exciting."

It might not have sounded exciting, but Lee yearned to be back on board his boat. Even the tedious day to day routines that were necessary to keeping the _Seaview_ running smoothly would have been a welcome diversion. Lee wished that he could just leave the hospital and immediately return to duty but he knew he was facing several more long boring weeks of recuperation. He sighed wearily.

Chip watched his friend carefully. He knew only too well how Lee was feeling. His own recent forced period of inactivity had nearly driven him nuts and that had only been a week! "Doc says he's going to let you go home soon."

Lee stared out the window for a few moments before answering. "That's what he says."

Chip tilted his head and frowned. "Don't you want to get out of here? Normally by this time you'd be plotting your escape! I'm surprised you haven't started digging an escape tunnel with your soup spoon."

Lee laughed but Chip could tell his heart wasn't in it. "I don't know, Chip. For some reason, I just don't care. If I can't go back to the _Seaview _I don't seem to care where I am. Here seems just as good as anywhere." He sat thoughtfully for a moment. "But, maybe I'll feel differently once I do get home. "

Chip said nothing. This was so out of character for Lee that he wasn't sure how to react. "Have you spoken to the doc about this?" he finally asked.

Lee shook his head. "No, although he keeps looking at me like he expects me to start demanding he let me go. I know he's thankful I'm willing to follow his orders but I think he's suspicious I'm planning something!"

Chip laughed quietly. "I'm sure he's more than a little confused. Griping is your hallmark here in the clinic. I imagine the entire staff must be wondering what's going on."

"Well, they don't have to worry. I'm not planning anything. I'll take my medicine, get my rest and wait for my release then I'll go home, do the same thing and hopefully I'll get my clean bill of health sooner than later!" Lee closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows. He suddenly felt very tired and unbidden, Matthew's face appeared to him. Lately, he had been having dreams about that mission and they weren't pleasant.

"Well," began Chip noticing his friend's fatigue, "I guess I had better get going. If Doc says it's OK, maybe I can bring you some paperwork next time!"

Lee smiled. Even that was sounding good.

Four days later, Lee was released from the hospital. Admiral Nelson and Chip both arrived to help move him back home. "Now, Captain," began Dr. Jamison as Lee was dressing, "You are not to overdo. Take things easy. Angie arranged to have a bunch of meals made up and put in your freezer. All you have to do is heat them up. No skipping meals! You are still considerably underweight and you need to build up your strength."

"Yes, Doc. I know!" grunted Lee as he bent over to tie his shoes. He had heard this all before. He had every intention on working hard to regain his health as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier reservations, he found he was actually looking forward to going home now that the day had come. Going home would give him something else to do beside brood about what happened to Matthew Harrison.

Jamison nodded but was still apprehensive. Lee remained very thin and pale despite his continued improvement. "Remember, if you start running a fever or feel ill, call me or the clinic immediately. It could be a relapse of the typhoid." Lee just glared at him. This must have been at least the tenth time Doc had gone over all of this!

Jamison sighed in surrender. He knew he was being an old mother hen, but they had come so close to losing the skipper, he still felt nervous letting Crane out of his sight. Jamison knew the captain had an aggravating tendency to downplay the seriousness of any injury or illness and in this case, it could be life threatening.

"Doc?" Jamison looked up to see Admiral Nelson standing in the doorway with Chip hovering behind.

"I didn't think you guys would ever get here!" Crane smiled in relief and stood to greet them. His smile turned to a grimace when he noticed the wheelchair they were pushing through the doorway. "Why can't I just walk out?"

Jamison sighed again. How many times had he had this same argument with Captain Crane? "You know the rules, Captain. However, if you would like to remain here a bit longer…"

"All right, Doc," Lee cried holding up his hands, "You win! I'll ride." Chip and Nelson exchanged grins and waited as Lee settled himself with a significant amount of grumbling into the chair. He was just relieved to finally be on his way. Once he was home, he would finally feel like he was making some real progress.

It wasn't long before they were all loaded into Nelson's car and on their way to Lee's beachfront home. Lee sat back against the leather seats and smiled as he watched the scenery speed by. He had been in the hospital for so long, it was like entering a whole new world.

"We aren't leaving on our mission for a few more days, Lee," Nelson was saying, "So if you need anything, someone can be there in no time." Lee closed his eyes. He was tired of having people hovering over him. He was desperate for some time alone to do what he wanted, when he wanted. No more nurses checking on him at all hours of the day and night or doctors scolding him for not eating enough. He knew they had his best interests at heart but it was wearing

"Thanks, Admiral," he replied opening his eyes. "I'm sure I'll be just fine. I'm feeling stronger every day. I just hope I'll be fit enough to go on the next cruise!"

"Well, if you continue as well as you have," replied Jamison, "I think that's a good possibility."

Chip, Nelson and Jamison stayed for dinner that evening, making sure that Lee was settled in comfortably. They all seemed a bit reluctant to leave but by 9, Lee was shooing them out the door. He was exhausted from all the activity and more than ready to get to bed. So, it was with a deep sigh of relief that he watched the Admiral's tail lights disappear down the road.

Lee quietly closed the door and collapsed on his sofa. He closed his eyes as he felt his body relax. He wasn't sure he had the energy to actually get up and go to bed. _I could just sleep here on the couch,_ he thought drowsily. _It is so good to be home!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Lee stood outside his front door again watching Dr. Jamison and the Admiral climb back into their car. They would be leaving in the morning for a ten day mission and Doc was adamant about making one last check on his patient. Lee assured him he was doing just fine, but that didn't seem to matter. Jamison wouldn't be satisfied until he had checked Lee out from head to toe. The doctor had seemed a bit concerned about Lee's lack of weight gain but Lee assured him he was eating well. Lee was thankful that the doctor had removed the heavy cast from his arm and replaced it with a lighter weight fiberglass splint. "I know the cast is uncomfortable," Doc said as he wrapped Lee's arm securely with an ace bandage, "The screws should keep the bones well secured, but given the problems you've had with this arm, I think it would be best if we kept protected a while longer." Lee hated all this fussing and was tremendously relieved when the two men left.

Lee's shoulders slumped as he turned to reenter the house. How he wished he was going with them! He desperately missed the _Seaview. _It seemed like years since he had been aboard. Silently, he cursed Vandergriff and his insane scheme. They still hadn't caught the man, but they would. Vandergriff was too well known to remain hidden forever.

A week had passed and Lee had just finished a long walk on the beach. It was dark now, and he berated himself for staying out longer than he'd intended. He felt chilled and tired as entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Staring morosely at the stack of nutritious meals, he sighed. He wasn't hungry and as a matter of fact, wasn't feeling too well. _It's nothing,_ he told himself as a chill ran through his achy body. He frowned in annoyance. He knew he had promised Dr. Jamison that if he began feeling ill, he would contact the clinic immediately but surely it was just from being out in the cold night air for too long. Well, he would at least force himself to eat something and then go to bed. If he still wasn't feeling well in the morning, maybe he'd call. In resignation, he reached in for one of the containers when his head burst into an explosion of pain and the world around him disappeared.

He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but as Lee gradually became aware of his surroundings, he became equally aware of the throbbing agony in his head. The pounding was enough to force a small moan of pain has Lee tried to move. What had happened? Had he had some kind of stroke? The last thing he remembered was looking in his refrigerator. What on earth could he have done to hurt his head doing _that_? Slowly, he opened his eyes. No, he was no longer in his kitchen. He was in some dark, dank room. He shivered. It was cold in here. He was on his side and he realized he was lying on a dirt floor. _This is odd_, he thought distantly. _I'll figure it out in a minute. I just wish my head would stop hurting! _He closed his eyes. _A nap might be nice._

"Captain Crane?" Lee frowned irritably. Who was calling him? He was tired and wanted to sleep. "Captain Crane!" The voice was louder, more commanding. Lee groaned and opened his eyes again. He could see a pair of black shoes several feet in front of him. Carefully he turned over so he could see the rest of the body attached to the shoes. He tried to move his head as little as possible. It felt as if it could split open at any moment. He stared at the figure before him in confusion. The room was dimly lit by a small electric lantern but he had no difficulty in recognizing the man standing there – Jacob Vandergriff! Lee knew he was in trouble but was having trouble thinking clearly.

"Vandergriff!" Lee finally croaked as he struggled to sit up never taking his eyes off the admiral.

Vandergriff chuckled but there was no humor in it. "Yes, Captain, I see you haven't forgotten me. How gratifying." He watched as Crane tried to rise. "There's no reason to get up, Captain"

Panting with effort, Lee painfully leaned against the cold, stone wall. He eyed Vandergriff furiously, his anger overcoming at least some of the pain "So, now what? Where am I? You planning on trying to kill me again?"

Vandergriff stared at Crane, his cold eyes seemed dead and expressionless. Another shiver ran through Lee's body. "Oh, you will die all right, Captain," whispered Vandergriff hoarsely. "But I have no desire to make it quick or painless. How long do you think Matthew suffered after you abandoned him to his fate?"

Lee felt himself go even colder. "I thought he was dead," he replied softly. "I would never have left him otherwise."

"No?" Vandergriff lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "Come, come Captain. Wasn't it simply easier to cover up your own incompetence by eliminating the only witness?"

Lee glared at the man as he finally pulled himself awkwardly to his feet. His aching head was spinning, and he was growing increasingly nauseous but he was determined not to show it. "If Matthew had followed orders," Lee snarled, "He probably would be alive today! I had our escape all planned but Matthew decided he knew better and wanted to prove he was somehow better than me. In the end, he paid the price but I would NOT have left him if I thought he was still alive!"

Vandergriff regarded him silently for a few moments. "Perhaps not, Captain, but it doesn't matter. You still left him, and he suffered for months at the hands of his captors." He paused, "Just as you were meant to."

Lee laughed mirthlessly, "Well you almost succeeded there. Another few days and I _would_ have been dead. Too bad your own man turned you in, and Admiral Nelson was able to save me." He watched with interest as the Admiral stiffened. Obviously Johnson's disloyalty was a sore point with Vandergriff.

"Johnson has paid a heavy price for his treachery and unfortunately my efforts to halt your rescue failed. However, he does not concern you. _I _do." Vandergriff moved back towards the rear wall. "Captain, I am not a cold-blooded killer. " He now had a gun in his hand. "But my grandson was everything to me and you destroyed him. " His voice was hard and unforgiving. "I want you to die, slowly and alone as he did." His piercing eyes moved across Lee's form appraisingly. "You are far from recovered from your recent ordeal," he said thoughtfully, "So perhaps it won't take as long as I would like. Lucky for you." Then, without even a flicker in his expression he fired the gun. Lee cried out in shock and pain, the bullet catching him high in the abdomen. Collapsing to his knees, his hands clutched at his side as a crimson stain blossomed across his shirt. Vandergriff just stared impassively.

"I will leave you now, Captain," he said with deadly calm. "I will not see you again. In fact, the next time anyone sees you, you will undoubtedly be long dead. Your friends won't be back for a couple more days and even if they do somehow manage to find you upon their return, it will be much too late."

"This is insane!" gasped Lee panting for breath. The pain was threatening to overwhelm him and he felt so terribly cold.

Vandergriff cocked his head and pursed his lips as if in thought. "Perhaps it is, Captain, but it makes _me_ feel better. Well, I must be going. I'm sorry, Captain. I'm not sure how much time you have left; possibly as much as a few days. Although I doubt it. Either the wound will kill you or the typhoid. Most likely a combination of the two." Lee stared at him incredulous. "Oh yes, Captain Crane, I have been watching you closely for the past couple of days. The signs are all there. Headache, chills, aches. I suspect if I were to check, you are probably running a fever. Typhoid has a nasty habit of making a comeback; didn't the doctor tell you that?"

Lee had collapsed against the wall fighting to remain conscious. He could feel the warmth of his blood spreading down his side. His body shook violently causing his teeth to chatter. Vandergriff watched him for a few more moments then turned to leave. He started to pick up the lantern but glancing back at the injured man he paused. "I'll just leave this for you, Captain. I'll do that much for you." He then disappeared through the doorway in the far wall. Lee heard the door slam shut and the distinct sound of the bolt being thrown. He was trapped.

Breathing hard, Lee tried to study the room. It was small, no more than ten or twelve feet square and perhaps 7 feet high. It felt like some sort of a basement. There were no apparent openings in or out beyond the door Vandergriff had used. He shivered again. _Vandergriff is right,_ thought Lee bleakly. _I am running a fever." _But instead of feeling defeated, Lee was angry. He was absolutely furious that yet again he was in a life threatening situation through no fault of his own. He was not going to give up without a fight even though it looked hopeless. He knew if he was to have any hope of survival, he would have to get out soon before he either bled to death or the typhoid took him. He glanced around again, or, he added, died of thirst. There was no water or food.

Gasping with pain, Lee managed to remove his blood-soaked shirt and tore off several strips of fabric. He then wadded up the remainder and pressed it firmly against his wound, using the strips to hold it in place. He shivered violently once more and his head was swimming. _Think, Lee!_ He berated himself. He couldn't lose consciousness now. If he did, it was unlikely he would reawaken. He wiped the perspiration from his face and as he did so, noticed how black his hands were. He frowned as he studied them closely in the dim light. His pants were also black with dirt. He focused on the dirt floor and fingered the soil. It was covered with a layer of fine, black dust. Coal! Lee blinked as the thought hit him. Could this have been a coal cellar at some time? If so, there might be another exit.

Taking several deep breaths he struggled back to his feet and steadied himself against the wall. With a grunt, he picked up the small lantern and carefully examined the walls looking for any sort of discoloration that indicated an opening had been sealed up. The walls were of old stone and crumbling mortar. He assumed that any opening designed to admit coal would be near the top of the wall. Finally, on the wall opposite the door he noticed a rectangle of stonework about a foot and a half below the ceiling that looked a bit more recent. It was about two feet high by three feet wide. His fingers dug at the mortar holding the stones in place and Lee was gratified to discover that it was also cracking and weak. Who ever had closed up this hole had done a poor job of it and Lee was grateful to him. He knew time was running out. If he couldn't create an opening soon, he wouldn't have the strength to pull himself out. Even now, he wasn't entirely sure he would be able to but his anger and desperation pushed him forward.

He stepped back, panting and dripping sweat. He was shaking from the exertion and knew he needed some kind of tool if he was to have any hope of breaking through the mortar. He glanced around again but the room was completely empty. He then looked down at his arm and felt a small surge of hope. The fiberglass splint supporting his arm may just work. Quickly he unwrapped his arm and carefully removed the splint. He flexed his fingers and was relieved that there was no pain. He turned back to the wall and using the rigid cast began digging furiously at the wall. It wasn't long before he had loosened several of the old stones. He set his makeshift tool on the ground and began to work at pulling out the blocks. Even though they were of a more recent vintage than the surrounding stones, they were still old and had been in place for some time. It took Lee several long, painful moments before he was able to work the first one free. He dropped it at his feet and began to pry at the next one. He could feel his strength flagging and knew time was running out. His wadded up shirt was now almost completely saturated with blood and although he tried to ignore it, he was sure his fever was rising.

Finally, after what seemed like days, Lee had managed to pull out enough stones to make an opening he was sure he could crawl through. He peered out through the space into velvety darkness of night. He wondered how long he had been in this room. Hours? Days? He listened carefully and could hear no sound beyond the wind rustling through the branches of nearby trees. He lifted the lantern higher to try and get his bearings but it was too weak to illuminate more than the dead weeds a few feet from the opening.

"All right, Lee," he mumbled to himself, "It's now or never!" His arm was aching now and Lee considered replacing the splint but discovered it had been too badly damaged by its most recent assignment. He just hoped the surgeon who screwed his arm back together had known what he was doing. He examined the pile of stones by his feet. They would elevate him enough that he should be able to crawl out of the hole without having to pull himself up too much. Taking a deep breath, he climbed onto the pile and pushed his head and shoulders through shivering as the cold breeze swirled around him. He cried out in pain as he squirmed the rest of his body out and onto the freezing ground. He lay there for several agonizing moments panting and shaking.

"Come on, Lee!" he whispered, "Get up!" But it was so hard. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and let sleep take him. "No!" he growled to himself and forced himself onto his hands and knees. He had to get moving and find some help. Using the side of the building, he managed to haul himself to his feet. He had to hold on for several endless minutes while his legs steadied and his head stopped spinning. Slowly he turned and tried to make sense of where he was.

He appeared to be standing next to an abandoned farmhouse. There were no lights or any sign that a human had been there recently. Lee lurched forward and started to make his way around the perimeter of the house. Perhaps if he could find a way in, he might find an old blanket or coat to protect him from the cold. He must be higher in the mountains, he reasoned, for it to be this cold. Santa Barbara was generally temperate even in the winter. The breeze chilled his damp skin to the bone causing his teeth to chatter uncontrollably while violent chills racked his body. Slowly he made his way to the front of the house. It looked old probably from the early 1900's with a sagging front porch. Step by painful step, he made his way to the front door. It hung crookedly on its hinges leaving the way open.

Lee held up his small lantern and peered in. He could see marks on the floor where Vandergriff had undoubtedly been. Lee took a few hesitant steps inside. The floor was warped and broken through in several places and the wind whistled through the empty windows frames. _Not much shelter here,_ thought Lee grimly as another fierce shiver almost caused him to drop his light. He staggered farther into the house careful where he stepped. He soon found himself in the kitchen. Looking around he abruptly froze. A dark door stood firmly bolted in the wall to his right. It must lead to the cellar where he had been so recently imprisoned. A wave of dizziness washed over him and dark spots danced before his eyes. _Damn!_ Things were getting worse. He clutched at the door frame to keep himself from falling. It was then he spotted a pile of rags in the corner to his left. Holding onto the wall to keep himself upright, he stumbled towards the pile. As he reached it, he felt his knees give way and he collapsed into the dusty heap. Barely conscious, he pulled the rags around him, burrowing as deeply, trying to retain a modicum of his body's warmth. At last, he could do no more and closed his eyes; sleep overtaking him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Kowalski sat in his jeep alongside a winding mountain road. He was cursing angrily to himself. He had had one simple mission: keep watch over the Skipper. That was _all_ and he had blown it. Admiral Nelson had been worried that that wacko ONI guy, Vandergriff, would pull something and he wanted someone around to make sure Captain Crane was safe. Kowalski and Patterson had both volunteered for the mission. Patterson took the day watch and he, Kowalski, the night. It had been pretty uneventful; up until tonight that is. Kowalski had been at his usual post, just inside a small grove of trees on the edge of the Skipper's property where he had a good view of both the front and back doors. Then boom! Somebody hit him over the head! He hadn't heard a sound and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground with his head ready to explode. Kowalski gritted his teeth in fury. How could have been so stupid! He looked up as the passenger door opened and Patterson climbed in.

"Well?"

Patterson rubbed his eyes and turned off his flashlight. It would be dawn soon. "It looks like a car might have turned onto the track a few yards up on the right," he replied thoughtfully. "Seems like some old farm road. I doubt it's been used in a long time but there are some new tracks. It's the first real possibility we've seen."

Kowalski nodded. He had had one bit of luck that night. As soon as he had regained consciousness, he had called Patterson. Pat had arrived quickly and they were about to head to the Captain's house to check on him, when a car pulled out of the driveway and sped down the road. They both jumped into Kowalski's jeep and gave chase. They almost lost him in the busy streets of Santa Barbara but Patterson caught a glimpse of the small SUV as it turned a corner. This happened several more times but soon it became evident that the SUV was headed into the nearby Sierra Madre Mountains.

Now it was several hours later and they were angry and frustrated. They had followed the SUV out into the country and although there was only one main road, they had lost him again. They were forced to drive slowly and check every little side road no matter how unlikely. Most showed no sign of recent passage but this latest one had what appeared to be fresh tire tracks.

"OK, Pat, let's go," sighed Kowalski wearily. He was worried they would be too late if and when they did find the Skipper. Slowly he turned into the narrow path. He could see where tires had flattened a trail through the dead weeds which nearly obliterated the drive. He exchanged glances with Patterson. This could be it.

They had gone almost a quarter of a mile before they spotted the abandoned farmhouse up ahead. The sky was gradually growing lighter in the east but the farm had a dark, desolate air about it. Kowalski drove as close to the house as he could then turned the jeep so it was facing back the way they had come. He wanted to be prepared in case they needed to make a hasty departure.

Silently, guns in hand, both men exited warily from the vehicle. They peered into the surrounding darkness before finally making their way towards the house. Patterson stopped on the first step to the rickety porch and leaned down to examine something. He frowned and looked back at his companion. "Looks like blood," he said quietly.

Using his own flashlight, Kowalski scanned the other steps. There was a blood trail leading into the house. "Do you think whoever was bleeding came in or went out?"

Patterson shrugged but gripped his pistol more tightly. He had a bad feeling about this. "Let's go in."

Kowalski nodded and they continued silently into the house. As much as he wanted to call out to the Captain, Kowalski feared alerting any hostile elements so he said nothing. They continued to follow the trail of blood splatters on the floor hoping it would lead them to the captain or at least provide a clue as to his whereabouts. Suddenly, Patterson grabbed Kowalski's arm and hissed, "Listen!"

Kowalski froze, flicked off his light and concentrated on the sounds around him. There! He could hear a soft, regular rasping noise like someone breathing. He looked at Patterson who pointed towards the dark doorway about ten feet in front of them. Cautiously, they both approached the door. They took positions on either side of the doorframe and then quickly shone their lights into the room guns at the ready.

It was the remains of a kitchen and appeared to be empty. They played their lights across the room finally settling on the pile of rags in the corner. Kowalski quickly realized it wasn't just a pile when he spotted a leg emerging from the pile. "Skipper!" he barked and holstering his gun, rushed over. Patterson followed more cautiously, continuing to peer around the room. Kowalski hurriedly pulled the filthy rags and old clothes off the body of his commanding officer until Captain Crane was free.

The Captain was unconscious and covered in blood; his makeshift bandage useless now. He was breathing with great difficulty and burning with fever. "He's alive," breathed Kowalski, "But in bad shape. Looks like he's been shot!"

Patterson crouched down beside his companion and quickly assessed the situation. "We've got to get him out of here right away!" he said. He pulled out his cell phone but frowned. There was no service. "We'll just have to take him out in the jeep. That's the only chance he has."

Kowalski nodded and reached down to lift the Captain. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion and Patterson cried out in pain, collapsing to the floor. Kowalski froze and stared at his friend. Patterson was lying on his side holding his leg, blood flowing freely from a wound in his thigh. Kowalski whirled to face their attacker finding himself face to face with a short man dressed all in black, a gleaming gun firmly pointed at Kowalski's chest.

"Just stay right where you are and drop your weapon the floor," said the man quietly. Kowalski stared at the man in anger and confusion but didn't move. "Do you want me to shoot you as well?" demanded the man in a cold voice, "Or I could just finish off your friend."

Swallowing, Kowalski unbuckled his holster and slowly lowered it to the ground. "Vandergriff," he said as the realization hit him.

The man smiled slightly and nodded. "That is correct. I've been waiting for you. I knew you wouldn't give up until you located Captain Crane. My guess is that you are a couple of his crewmen. Am I right?"

"Yeah, you're right," snarled Kowalski. His mind was racing. Two men down and no weapon.

Vandergriff was watching him closely. "Move away from the Captain," he ordered. His eyes flicked down to the motionless form on the floor. "I must admit, I do admire his tenacity and ingenuity in escaping from the cellar. Although I should have aimed more carefully," he added thoughtfully. "He is dying much too quickly."

Kowalski growled angrily preparing to charge at the man, but Vandergriff instantly had the gun focused on Kowalski once more. "Young man," sighed the Admiral, "By the time you could reach me, both your Captain and your friend will be dead. Is that what you want?"

"You plan on killing us anyway!" panted Patterson, his face white with pain.

"Not at all!" replied Vandergriff. "I have no argument with you two, except where it concerns the Captain here. I have no wish for either of you to die. Captain Crane, on the other hand, is another matter. His death is already sealed." He moved closer to Crane and shook his head. "Yes, if I had aimed a bit more carefully, he would have survived longer."

"You son of a bitch!" spat Kowalski, furious at his own impotence. Vandergriff turned to look at him coldly.

"You have no idea what I have been through because of _him!" _AngrilyVandergriff pushed Crane with his foot. "He deserves every moment of pain and suffering I can provide! He…" Vandergriff never got to finish his sentence as in the next moment, he suddenly found his feet yanked out from under him. Seeing his chance, Kowalski lunged forward and tackled Vandergriff as he fell. Kowalski then seized the gun as it went flying turning it on the prostrate Vandergriff. Without thinking, he turned the gun and struck the admiral firmly on the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. That would make him easier to deal with. He then turned towards Captain Crane who looked back at him, gasping in pain.

"Skipper!" cried Kowalski moving towards him.

"I…couldn't let you have…all the fun," grimaced Lee, closing his eyes once more. "You had better see…to Patterson." Kowalski looked helplessly at the Captain's pallid face. He didn't look good at all. He then turned to Patterson who was using one of the rags to staunch the flow of blood from his leg.

"Pat, you OK?" he hurried to his friend's side to help.

"I'll be fine," Pat grunted tying off his leg. "The bullet's still in there, but it didn't hit the bone. How's the skipper?"

"Not too good," replied Kowalski. "We gotta get you guys out of here and to a doctor." He looked down at Vandergriff. "I guess I'll tie him up and put him in the back. We sure can't leave him here!" With that, he hurried out into the early morning sunlight and found some rope and first aid kit in the back of the jeep. After securely binding the admiral, he turned to the Captain. He gently tugged at the makeshift bandage tied around the Captain's torso but stopped once he saw it had adhered to the skin. He looked up at Patterson. "I'd better not mess with it," he said frowning in concern, "I might just start it bleeding again." Kowalski did take a roll of gauze and wrapped the bloodied shirt more securely. He hoped the added pressure would keep the wound from bleeding again. He next helped Patterson bandage his injured leg more securely.

Kowalski assisted Patterson to his feet and supported the injured man as he limped to the jeep. After settling his friend in the front seat, Kowalski reached into the back seat and rummaged around until he located the blanket he had stowed under the seat and headed back to the house. The sun was shining brightly now and the house, instead of foreboding, just had a sad, forlorn look about it. Kowalski hurried into the kitchen where the Captain lay fighting for his life.

"Okay, Skipper," said Kowalski softly, "We need to get you into the car. You just take it easy and let me do the work. All right?"

Lee opened his sunken eyes and looked up into Kowalski's troubled face. "Just…do what you have to…Ski." He tried to smile but it quickly turned into a grimace of pain.

Kowalski nodded. "I…I'll try not to hurt you, Skipper." Carefully, he lifted Crane into a sitting position and wrapped him in the blanket. Then, wincing at Lee's soft gasps, he lifted him from the ground and carried him to the car. Patterson watched worriedly as Kowalski gently laid the captain across the back seat.

Once settled, Lee gave a deep sigh of relief. He opened is eyes and met Kowalski's anguish filled ones. "Thanks, Ski." He smiled slightly then slipped back into unconsciousness.

"Hang on, Skipper," Kowalski whispered and turned to return to the farmhouse once more.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

It was the longest drive of Kowalski's life. Beyond the occasional grunt of pain, Patterson remained stoic about his injury and did his best to provide moral support to Kowalski who was feeling the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. Patterson also kept a close watch on his mobile phone waiting for the moment when he was back in range and could call the Institute for help. They could have a helicopter meet them and get the Skipper to help.

He glanced into the back seat where Crane lay, his breathing harsh and labored. There was a sheen of sweat on the Captain's haggard face and he seemed restless. It was then Patterson noticed Admiral Vandergriff watching him. Patterson felt a chill run down his back as he turned quickly away.

It was over an hour before Patterson was finally able to call the Institute. Angie answered in her usual businesslike tone.

"Admiral Nelson's office. How may I be of service?"

"Um, Angie, this is Patterson," he began. He always felt awkward talking to the Admiral's pretty assistant. "Captain Crane has been wounded and we're bringing him down from the mountains. We need a helicopter to meet us somewhere along the Old San Marcos Road. He's in pretty bad shape."

Patterson was met with shocked silence until Angie's training kicked in. "All right, Patterson," she said briskly, "Give me your number and where you're located. I'll get a helicopter lined up and call you when it's on its way and where it will meet you."

After getting the information, Angie immediately kicked into high gear. She soon had an emergency rescue helicopter winging its way northward to meet with Kowalski and Patterson. She then contacted ONI and informed them that Vandergriff had been captured. They would have a man pick him up as soon as Kowalski returned to NIMR. When this was done, Angie slumped slightly in her seat and buried her head in her hands. When would this ever end? During the last call, Patterson had explained the entire situation to her and she felt ill. Lifting her head, she looked over at the videophone beside her desk. Now she would have to contact the Admiral.

"Admiral Nelson, Sparks here. There is a message coming through for you from the Institute."

Nelson, deeply immersed in the data from his current experiment, took a moment before registering the call. Clicking the mike, he acknowledged the message and turned on his videophone. Angie's pale face appeared on the screen.

Nelson frowned. She looked upset. "Yes, Angie? Is there something wrong?"

Angie looked down at her desk and swallowed. "Yes, Admiral," she replied softly looking back up at him. "I…I just got a call from Patterson and Kowalski." Nelson stiffened. He was fully aware of what Patterson and Kowalski were supposed to be doing. Angie inwardly winced. "Admiral Vandergriff ambushed Kowalski, knocked him out and kidnapped Lee." Ignoring the Admiral's cry of anger, she rushed on. "However, they were able to follow him and eventually located where he had taken Lee. Unfortunately, Lee had already been shot when they found him." Again Nelson made to interrupt and again Angie ignored him. "Vandergriff ambushed them and wounded Patterson. He'll be all right," she hurried to reassure him. "Leg wound. Anyway, there was a fight and Vandergriff was subdued. Now they are on their way back to Santa Barbara and a helicopter is en route to meet them and pick up the wounded. I have notified ONI and they will pick up Vandergriff when Kowalski gets back."

Nelson blinked and just stared at his young assistant. He felt numb as he ran his hand through his hair and tried to think. "So," he attempted but couldn't go on. He closed his eyes for a moment then took a deep breath. "So, you don't know how badly Lee is injured?"

Angie looked away again, the pain evident in her face. "I... don't know for sure sir, but Patterson said it didn't look good."

Nelson nodded slowly. He suddenly felt exhausted. It was the same nightmare over and over again. If Lee survived this, he was never getting off the _Seaview_ again! "Thank you, Angie," he said at last. "Please, keep me posted." Angie nodded wiping her eyes and signed off.

Nelson sat at his desk, unmoving and face blank. He just couldn't think. Abruptly he stood up and began pacing his office pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He needed to notify Chip and the Doc. They would certainly want to know. He rubbed his throbbing head. He could take the flying sub and be back to Santa Barbara within a few hours. The _Seaview_ was making its return but wouldn't arrive at its base until tomorrow night.

He picked up the mike. "Mr. Morton," he barked. "Please meet me in sick bay immediately."

"Aye, sir," came the immediate reply and Nelson headed out the door.

He met Chip the coming down the corridor as he approached sick bay. Chip looked questioningly at the Admiral but said nothing until they entered the room. Dr. Jamison looked up as they entered and frowned. "Admiral?"

Quickly, Nelson reviewed what Angie had just told him as both Chip and Jamison listened in growing horror. "The Captain's been _shot!_" cried Jamison in disbelief. He was on his feet now staring at Nelson. "Admiral, he's not even recovered from his last incident! How badly wounded is he, do you know?"

Nelson shook his head. "Angie will contact me as soon as Lee and Patterson reach the medical center but all she knew was what Patterson had told her. He said it didn't look good." He paused rubbing his forehead. "But, you know Lee. He's tough!"

Neither man replied. Yes, the captain was tough but he was hardly at his best and to undergo such a traumatic injury on the heels of his last illness hardly boded well.

"I've ordered Chief Sharkey to prepare the Flying Sub for immediate departure," Nelson continued. "I…I didn't think it was wise to wait until the _Seaview_ is scheduled to dock. It might be too late." This last said so softly, the others barely heard.

Jamison stepped forward. "I'm coming with you." Chip nodded. O'Brien could easily handle bringing the _Seaview_ home.

"I thought that would be the case," smiled the Admiral. "Let's get going."

The three men hurried to the control room where Mr. O'Brien and Chief Sharkey stood waiting for them. Nelson hesitated, unsure of how much he wanted to tell them. "Captain Crane has been injured," he said quickly. "We're not sure how badly but we feel it best to take the Flying Sub to Santa Barbara now rather than wait until we dock tomorrow." The control room was silent, all eyes fixed on the admiral. O' Brien and Sharkey exchange glances. They knew if the Admiral, Mr. Morton _and _the ship's doctor were leaving, it must be bad.

"Mr. O'Brien, you have command. Just bring her home safe and sound."

"Aye aye, Sir," replied O'Brien quietly. He stepped back to allow the Admiral and the others access to the hatch to the Flying Sub.

"Sir?" The Admiral turned to look at Sharkey. His face reflecting his anxiety, the Chief clutched his clipboard tightly. "Sir, if there's anything we can do…anything at all, please, let us know." He blinked quickly and looked away. Nelson nodded silently and clapped Sharkey reassuringly on the shoulder.

"He'll be fine, Chief. Don't worry." Sharkey smiled briefly but his heart wasn't in it. They were all well aware of how close they had come to losing the Skipper just a short while ago and for him to be injured again so soon couldn't be good. Nelson turned and climbed down the hatch followed by Chip and the doctor. If all went well, they should be in Santa Barbara in four hours.

They had been airborne for two hours when the _Seaview _called in. "_Seaview_ to FS1. _Seaview_ to FS1. Do you read me, Admiral?"

Engaging the throat mike, Nelson replied, "This is FS1. We read you _Seaview_. Is there news on the Captain?" Chip and Dr. Jamison leaned forward to listen.

"Aye sir," replied O'Brien. "Angie called to say that the Skipper and Patterson have reached the hospital and both are now in surgery. Kowalski reached the Institute a short while ago and ONI has taken Admiral Vandergriff into custody."

Nelson sighed in relief. At least Lee was still alive. "Thank you, Mr. O'Brien. Keep us posted. FS1 over and out." He glanced at his companions. Chip's brow was furrowed in concern. Doc looked thoughtful.

"What do you think, Doc?" Nelson asked turning his attention back to the controls.

"I don't know, Admiral," replied Doc. "It's a good sign he's made it into surgery. However, there are just too many things I don't know."

Nelson nodded grimly. He knew that until they spoke with the doctors at the hospital, all they could do was guess at Lee's condition. He just wished they could get there faster.

It was close to three hours before they finally pulled into the hospital parking lot. The engine was barely off when the three of them leaped from the car and rushed into the building. One of the nurses at reception was waiting for them.

"Admiral Nelson!" she called hurrying towards them. They turned and waited expectantly. "I was told to take you directly to Dr. Breyer's office as soon as you arrived. Your men are both out of surgery now and he can update you on their condition." She then turned and led them down several corridors until they reached Dr. Breyer's. She knocked and opened the door. Dr. Breyer stood up to greet them.

"I'm sorry we have to keep meeting under these circumstances, Admiral," said Breyer as they all settled into chairs. "However, I am glad you were able to get here so quickly." He looked very grave.

"How are they, doctor?" asked Nelson apprehensively.

Breyer sighed. "Your man, Patterson, will be fine. He took a bullet in the thigh but fortunately it didn't hit the bone or damage the femoral artery. He lost a fair amount of blood and there was some muscle and ligament damage but we were able to remove the bullet without any complications. He'll need to stay off the leg for awhile, but with the right physical therapy; he should make a full recovery."

Nelson nodded. He was relieved to hear that at least one of his men would be all right. "And Captain Crane?"

Breyer paused a moment. His face seemed even grimmer than before. Nelson braced himself for the worst. "Captain Crane is still alive, Admiral, thanks to your men but I'm afraid his chances of recovery are not good. A bullet hit him high in the abdomen damaging several internal organs including his liver, spleen and small intestines so he's lost a lot of blood. He also is suffering a relapse of the typhoid he contracted earlier. His fever is over 105º and we can't seem to bring it down. We've got him on antibiotics, of course, but his entire immune system is so weakened by his previous illness and now this bullet wound on top of that that I am afraid he may not make it this time."

The silence was deafening. Nelson suddenly felt dizzy. He'd known that there was a good chance they would lose Lee this time but to have it spelled out so bluntly was almost more than he could handle. He ran his hand through his sandy red hair desperately wishing for a cigarette. He turned to Chip and Dr. Jamison, their faces reflecting his own shock and dismay.

"I'd like to see him, Jim," said Jamison quietly. "I've seen the Skipper through some pretty rough times including his last episode. Maybe there's something I can do."

Dr. Breyer nodded. He was well familiar with Jamison's role in the Captain's life and was more than willing to let Jamison offer his help. Perhaps Crane would respond more favorably to Jamison's care than to his or another physician's. "Nurse Colburn will take you to him." He nodded towards the young woman who had escorted them to the office.

Jamison rose and turned to leave. "I'll let you know what I find, Admiral."

Nelson and Chip sat silently for a while longer both feeling so helpless. Breyer watched them sympathetically. He had treated Crane several times in the past and knew well the close bond the men of the _Seaview_ shared. "While Dr. Jamison is with Captain Crane, would you like to see your other man, Patterson?" the doctor asked.

Nelson blinked in confusion for just a moment, coming back to the present. "Yes, of course. " he replied getting to his feet. The doctor led the two men down the hall and up a flight of stairs. They stopped in front a room halfway down the hallway. Nelson peered in through the partially open door. He could see Patterson in the bed, his leg wrapped and elevated. Kowalski sat beside him looking miserable. Nelson knocked and opened the door. Kowalski looked up in surprise. Patterson appeared to be sleeping.

"Admiral!" exclaimed Kowalski rising to his feet. "I didn't know you had returned, sir!"

Nelson gave him a slight smile. "We just got in." He turned to look at Patterson. "How is he?"

Patterson slowly opened his eyes and replied, "I'm fine, sir. Doc says I'll be as good as new in a couple of weeks."

Kowalski continued to stand looking more miserable than ever. Finally he blurted, "I'm sorry sir! It was all my fault! I should never have let Vandergriff get the drop on me! I never heard a thing! I…" he trailed off helplessly and looked away.

Nelson sighed and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's all right, Kowlaski. I know you aren't careless and would never have purposefully put the captain at risk. The important thing is you got both the captain and Patterson back alive and captured Vandergriff in the bargain."

"But sir!" cried Kowlaski his voice choked with anguish, "If the Skipper dies, it will be because I failed! It was my responsibility to watch out for Vandergriff and I let him get by me." He paused and said ruefully. "And the only reason I was able to capture Vandergriff is because the Skipper yanked his feet out from under him!" Chip and the admiral exchanged glances. They hadn't heard this bit of information before.

"Well, Kowalski," said Nelson finally, "Let's just pray the captain survives. You are a good man and have nothing to blame yourself for. If anything, I should have placed more security around him. I just didn't think Vandergriff would do anything so blatant. " Kowalski said nothing, still looking unconvinced. Nelson sighed again. He knew just how Kowalski felt. "You should go home and get some rest," Nelson urged. Kowalski looked thoroughly done in.

Kowalski shook his head. "If it's OK with you sir, I'd just as soon stay here for awhile."

Nelson nodded. He looked over to Chip who was quietly speaking with Patterson. The Exec caught the admiral's look and after a final word to Patterson joined Nelson. The admiral looked at the two seamen. "We'll let you know as soon as we hear anything."

"Thank you, sir," replied Kowalski quietly and slowly returned to his seat near Patterson's side.

Nelson and Chip returned to the hallway where Dr. Breyer was conferring with Jamison.

"Doc?" asked Nelson watching Jamison closely.

Jamison didn't meet the Admiral's gaze immediately. "I have to agree with Dr. Breyer," he said heavily. "There's nothing more that can be done. It's all up to Captain Crane but frankly Admiral, I don't think he has enough strength left."

"But Lee has beaten the odds before!" cried Chip angrily. "How many times have we assumed we'd lost him only to have him bounce back. What makes this time so different?" His eyes were blazing. He absolutely refused to believe that Lee was a lost cause and was furious that Jamison was even suggesting such a thing. He, of all people, should know how foolhardy it was to give up on Lee as long as he had a breath left in his body.

"I know, Chip," replied Jamison soothingly. "But the Captain was terribly weakened by the typhoid and abuse he'd suffered. He is hardly in fighting form. I haven't given up on him but we have to be realistic! His chances of surviving both the gunshot wound AND the typhoid are _not _good."

"Can we see him?" asked Nelson before Chip could explode again. Jamison exchanged glances with Breyer and nodded.

The small group made their way down the corridor to the critical care unit following Breyer to a bed near the back of the unit. Captain Crane lay silently under a sheet, his upper abdomen heavily swathed in bandages. His face with flushed with fever and his breathing labored. It was almost as if the last few weeks had never happened and they were staring at the man they had just rescued from prison.

Nelson felt cold, then hot as the shock of his friend's condition really came home to him. He knew how foolish it was to become attached to one's subordinates, but Lee was like a son to him. They had gone through some incredible adventures aboard the _Seaview_ and Nelson was fully aware how few men there were like Lee Crane. Lee had once been called "unimaginative" but there was nothing further from the truth. Not only could he deal with the highly technical business of running a nuclear submarine, but Lee was open-minded enough to deal with aliens and the other odd and fantastic creatures they had encountered over the past several years. Nelson chuckled to himself imagining his old friend, Admiral Stark trying to adapt to some of those unlikely situations. No, they might find someone else to command the _Seaview _if need be, but they could never replace Lee Crane.

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate them. It's been a long time since I've looked at this story and forgotten a lot of it. It's been interesting! Anyway, still more to come so I hope those of you who are reading are enjoying this melodramatic tale of woe! ;-)


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Nelson sat in his office absently sorting through some papers. His mind was far from his work. He was still very worried about Lee. He wasn't responding well to any of the antibiotics Jamison had tried so far. Doc and Breyer were concerned that they were looking at some new strain of the typhoid bacterium. Nelson shook his head. _No!_ Lee _had_ to recover. He had survived the first 48 hours after surgery, and Jamison claimed that every hour improved his chances. That damn typhoid had just complicated everything dramatically.

He sighed in frustration and tried to concentrate. Just then, Angie's voice came through the intercom. "Admiral, Senator Rollins on line one." Nelson frowned. Rollins? What could he want? Nothing good that was for certain. Senator Rollins was head of the subcommittee that monitored and funded the _Seaview_'s missions. Nelson did not particularly like the man. He was a consummate bureaucrat and penny-pincher. He required ridiculous amounts of paperwork and expected every dime to be accounted for. He drove Nelson crazy.

With a small grunt of irritation Nelson picked up the receiver and punched the button. Hopefully this would be a quick call. "Yes, Senator," Nelson said trying to sound pleasant, "What can I do for you?"

"Admiral Nelson," came the reply in Rollins annoying nasal whine. "I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time."

Nelson rolled his eyes knowing full well that Rollins would have liked nothing better. "Not at all, Senator. Just catching up with some paperwork."

"Good. Admiral, this is not a social call. I have been delegated by the committee to discuss with you a very important issue."

Nelson frowned. He couldn't imagine what important issue would suddenly have the funding committee upset. "Yes? Go on. What issue do you mean?"

Rollins paused a moment. "I am referring to Captain Crane."

Nelson sat up; alert now clenching the phone tightly. "Captain Crane?"

"Admiral, we are fully aware of your feelings concerning Crane and we also understand how valuable he has been in the past. However, we believe that his usefulness to you as the commander of the _Seaview_ has come to an end. We want you to appoint a new commander. If you are unable to do so, we will appoint one for you."

Stunned, Nelson sat absolutely speechless. Of all the things he was expecting to hear from Rollins, demanding the dismissal of Lee Crane was the farthest thing from his mind. "What!" he exploded, his fury venting at last. "What are you talking about? That is the most insane thing I have ever heard! How can you possibly expect me to remove Crane as the commander of the _Seaview?_"

Rollins waited silently for the Admiral to calm down. "I'm sorry, Admiral, but the man has become a financial liability. Lately he has spent far more time captive in some hostile country or recovering in the hospital than he has in the control room of your submarine!"

"That's not fair!" shouted Nelson furiously, "Everything he has done has been for the good of the nation! It's not as if he recklessly chooses these missions or encourages attacks!"

"Doesn't he, Admiral?" returned Rollins coldly. "We never had these kinds of problems with the _Seaview_'s previous commander, Captain Phillips. Once Crane came on board it has been one disaster after another. I don't question his bravery or ability to command, Admiral, but we believe the _Seaview_ would be better off with a captain who is less of a daredevil and more of a commander."

Nelson was astounded that anyone could believe that Crane had become a liability. The man had sacrificed more in the service of his country than almost anyone else Nelson could think of, including this pompous politician. Now he was fighting for his life and this idiot wanted Nelson to _fire _him? It was inconceivable. Nelson took a deep breath trying to calm himself. He needed to be level headed about this or risk losing everything.

"Senator Rollins, I would like the opportunity to meet with the committee and explain exactly how important Captain Crane is to…"

"That won't be necessary," interrupted Rollins impatiently. "We have studied the _Seaview_'s missions and Crane's contributions. If he would simply stay on the submarine and do his duty then we would have no complaint, but he seems to have a predilection for constantly putting himself in harm's way, from going on these harebrained ONI missions to venturing out himself when _Seaview_ is threatened by some outside force. Why do you need all those men if the captain is simply going to do all the dangerous work himself? _They_ are expendable. _He_ is not and the fact he does not seem to recognize this fact just further convinced us that the _Seaview_ needs a new captain."

Nelson's white knuckles stood out starkly against the dark surface of the phone. He couldn't remember the last time he was _this_ furious. "Captain Crane is currently fighting for his life," he said through clenched teeth, "And you expect me to go in and inform him he has been relieved of his command because a bunch of bean counters thinks he _costs too much!_ Why don't I just put a bullet in his brain? It would have the same effect and be far less painful!" He voice was a roar now and he slammed the phone down with such vehemence it went flying from his desk.

"_I don't believe this!_" he snarled pacing his office. "How can they expect me to fire Lee! _It is insane!" _So furious was he that Nelson didn't notice his office door slowing swinging open and a blond head cautiously peering around the frame.

"Uh, Admiral?" Chip asked hesitantly. "Is everything all right?"

"_No!_" Nelson snapped. "It most definitely is _not!_ Washington wants me to _fire_ Lee! Can you believe that?"

Chip stepped all the way into the office and closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving the Admiral. _"What?"_

Nelson stopped his pacing and ran his hand through his hair. He was rigid with anger. "I just got a call from Senator Rollins. He demands that I replace Lee as the commander of the _Seaview_ immediately. He claims Lee costs the government too much money!"

Chip stared at the Admiral dumbfounded. He had no idea how to react to such a preposterous statement. _Fire_ Lee? Because he _cost_ too much? It made absolutely no sense. "But…" he paused still trying to understand what was going on. "But…how can they do that? After everything he's done! They can't just fire him!" Now his anger was starting to build. "Admiral, the thought of returning to the _Seaview_ is the only thing keeping Lee alive! If you take that away from him…" he trailed off unable to say the words.

"Don't you think I tried telling Rollins that?" growled Nelson beginning to pace once more. "He didn't want to hear i.! He wouldn't even allow me the courtesy of presenting an argument to the subcommittee. As far as they're concerned, it's a done deal!"

Chip thought a moment. "Can't you go above their heads? What about the president? Couldn't he help?"

Nelson paused, considering Chip's suggestion. "I could try that," he sighed, "But my guess is Rollins and his cronies have covered their bases. They all belong to key Ways and Means subcommittees and they may have convinced a variety of influential people that unless they support Crane's replacement, they may lose some crucial funding. I've known it to happen before." He rubbed his aching head. "But still, I can't let Lee go without a fight!"

"Sir," said Chip slowly, "If they insist on replacing Lee no matter what, what will you do? It will kill him."

"I know." Nelson suddenly felt exhausted. He made his way back to his chair and sat heavily causing it to creak in protest. "Chip," he said turning towards the younger man, "If I can't stop this, I'm going to request you take over as _Seaview's_ captain." Chip started to protest but Nelson cut him off. "No, listen to me! I have no intention of giving up even if I lose this first battle. But, if I have you as the new commander, it will be simpler to bring Lee back. It will be much easier on the men as well. They know and trust you. Plus, you know full well what any officer coming in to replace Lee under these circumstances would be facing – near mutiny! And to be honest, I'd be right there with them."

Chip frowned in dismay. He certainly would like his own command one day, but not like this. However, what the admiral suggested made sense. "All right, Admiral," he said reluctantly. "I'll do it, but only with the understanding that I'm just holding the spot open for Lee. We need to make certain he understands that."

Nelson nodded looking no happier. "Let's just hope it doesn't come down to that, Chip. I pray I'm not going to have to tell Lee anything."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Lee lay quietly in his hospital bed an unopened book in his thin hand. He felt listless with little interest in doing anything besides sleeping or staring into space. He couldn't believe that he was stuck in the hospital _again. _Physically, he was back to where he'd been weeks ago, and if he thought much about it, he could feel himself descend into a dark hole of depression. He had been so certain he would be getting ready to resume his duties as _Seaview's_ commander by this time. This made his current situation even more unbearable. He'd been in the hospital over two weeks already, and he was still running a fever. Drs. Jamison and Breyer were worried at their inability to eliminate it, and it was slowing down all aspects of his recovery. He shifted uncomfortably lightly placing a hand over his bandaged abdomen. It was just so frustrating!

He picked up the book again and actually opened it this time, but still couldn't concentrate on the words. It just seemed like too much effort. With a sigh, he leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes. He was gently drifting off to sleep when he was startled by a rapping on his door. His eyes snapped open and he turned to see a tall, thin man with a rat-like face standing in the doorway. Lee frowned. The man looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place him.

"Commander Crane?" said the man in a nasally whine. Lee flinched. It was like listening to nails on a chalkboard.

"Yes," he replied eyeing the man suspiciously.

The man smiled, but there was no warmth in those beady little eyes. "I'm glad to see you awake, Commander. The nurse told me you would probably be sleeping."

_I was, _thought Lee irritably.

The man came closer. "I am Senator Gilbert Rollins. I assume you have heard of me?"

Lee's frown deepened. Where had he heard that name before?

"Let me assist you, Commander. I am head of the subcommittee responsible for funding many of the _Seaview's_ missions."

Lee's eyes widened in surprised. "Uh, yes, of course. Nice to meet you Senator," he replied. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The Senator smiled again. Lee tensed. "Commander," he said abruptly, "in the past six months, how many days have you actually spent aboard the _Seaview_?"

Lee opened his mouth in confusion then quickly shut it. He had absolutely no idea where this man was going. "Uh, I'm not sure," Lee replied slowly continuing to stare at the man.

Rollins smile became positively gloating. "I thought not, Commander. That is because you have spent most of those six months elsewhere! Do you have any idea how much money the government has invested in rescuing you or providing you with extensive medical care? Millions! On a man who is supposed to be commanding a civilian research submarine. Now, does that make any sense?"

Again Lee found himself speechless. He shook his head slightly as if to clear it. Where was this coming from? "Uh, Senator, I don't understand. I was only doing my duty."

"Hmph," snorted Rollins skeptically. "Is it a submarine commander's duty to constantly run off on harebrained missions to every global backwater on the map? And is there some reason that _you_, Commander Crane, feel obligated to personally face every danger that _Seaview _encounters? That is why you have _crewmen_, Commander! You are indispensable on board the _Seaview_, especially under stressful situations yet time and time again you leave your ship in the hands of lesser officers."

For the first time since this insanity had begun, Lee began to feel real anger. To have this paper-pusher telling him how to run his submarine and to imply that his crewmen were expendable compared to himself was simply intolerable. Grunting in pain, he pushed himself up higher in his bed glaring furiously at Rollins.

"I run my ship as I see fit!" he snapped breathing hard, "I would never send my men into a situation I wouldn't enter myself. We are a tight knit group and every man is as valuable as the next. And as for leaving the _Seaview_, it is the Office of Naval Intelligence that keeps sending me on these 'harebrained' missions as you call them. If you have a problem with the costs of those missions, I suggest you take it up with them. Believe me Senator, being here in this hospital is not my choice. I would much rather be on board my submarine!"

"Well, Commander, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but given your recent track record, the committee has decided to have you replaced as the captain of the _Seaview_ with someone more reliable. Once you are released and deemed fit for duty, you will be returned to active duty in the Navy."

Lee's pale face lost all of its remaining color. He grasped the railing on either side of the bed as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He was being _fired_! He took a few deep, shuddering breaths trying to regain control. He glared at Rollins. "Admiral Nelson will never allow that!" he gasped.

Rollins gave Lee a pitying look. "It's already done, Commander. Admiral Nelson has done his best to have this order rescinded, but even the president supported our decision in the end. I'm sorry Commander Crane, but as of this moment, you are no longer captain of the _Seaview."_

Lee stared at him, stunned. What could he say? He sat silently for a few moments. "So, what exactly is my position now?"

"Well, at the moment I would say you are an unemployed civilian," replied Rollins mildly. "I expect the Navy will want you back ," He studied Lee's thin, pale features then shook his head dismissively. "Well, perhaps not. The Navy wants _healthy_ men." Lee stiffened in anger but said nothing.

"Commander, I am sorry it had to come to this. You are an excellent officer when you actually perform your duties, howeverI'm sure we will find someone just as capable to replace you. I wish you the best of luck, Commander Crane." And with those final words, Rollins turned and strode from the room.

Lee lay back against the pillows still stunned by this entirely unexpected turn of events. He was no longer captain of the _Seaview_? He wasn't quite sure how to react. He was furious at the ratty little senator and his damn committee but part of him, albeit a very small part, did understand the situation. He often felt torn between staying on board the _Seaview_ or going out to investigate some unknown phenomenon himself. He hated putting his men at risk. Yet, it was obvious Rollins did not understand the entire situation. He and his ilk just looked at the bottom line. They did not consider the human element involved in Lee's line of work. He let out a long slow breath of frustration and ran his hand through his hair. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was get out of this hospital and go home. He knew word would spread quickly, and the last thing he wanted was a bunch of people offering their condolences. That would be like rubbing salt in the wound.

He looked at his clock. It was late afternoon. If he was now a civilian and had no current ties to the Nelson Institute or the Navy, theoretically he could just sign himself out right now. No one could order him to remain. Carefully, he levered himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He could feel himself shaking even at this minor effort. However, he wasn't going to give up yet. Taking a deep breath, he placed his feet on the cool hospital floor and using his arms, pushed himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he was forced to grab onto the nearby bed table for support. His legs felt like the muscles had all turned to Jello. They trembled as he adjusted his weight and he winced at the sharp pain in his abdomen. Doc would have a fit if he saw Lee now but Lee didn't care any more. He was tired of hospitals, IV's, endless exams and vitals checks. All he wanted to do right now was go home, sit on his deck and watch the ocean.

Using the furniture for support, he painfully made his way to the small wardrobe and opened the door. He smiled. Chip had brought him some sweats a few days ago in anticipation of Lee's getting up more. Chip knew how much Lee detested hospital garb. Lee grabbed the clothes and staggered back to his bed nearly collapsing in relief. With much effort, he was finally able to get the clothing on. He scowled in frustration. He had clothes. Great. But he was so weak, he couldn't possibly walk out on his own. He was shaking like a leaf and bathed in sweat from just that short excursion. He'd collapse before he got halfway down the hall. Angrily he pounded his fist on the pillow. _No! _Fueled by his anger, Lee lurched to his feet once more. He would _not_ stay here another minute! It wasn't easy, but he kept his balance and made his way to the door and looked out.

It was busy in the hallway with numerous visitors and medical personnel all going about their business. No one was paying any attention to him. Taking a deep breath and gently touching the wall to keep his balance, Lee moved into the hallway and without looking around walked to the exit at the end of the hall. It was taking every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep himself upright and moving forward. He tried to look as normal as anyone, not wanting to attract attention to himself. The wing was on the first floor which avoided the necessity of taking stairs or the elevator and Lee knew taxis commonly brought visitors to the hospital's entrance. If he could just make it there, he would be home free!

Step by agonizing step, Lee walked through the front door of the clinic and into the fresh air. No one had stopped him or questioned him. He kept moving knowing that if he stopped, he might not be able to find the strength or the energy to start up again. He was running purely on adrenalin. He studied the cars near the entryway to the hospital and smiled grimly. A taxi had just driven up a few feet away to discharge a passenger.

By the time he reached the cab, Lee was near collapse. The driver, an older man with a round, bald head hurried over to him, eyes wide in alarm. "Hey buddy! You ok?" Lee nodded, wiping the sweat pouring from his face as the driver helped him into the back seat. The driver quickly climbed into his own seat and studied his passenger doubtfully through the rear view mirror. "You sure you should be out of the hospital, mister?" he asked.

Lee, breathing heavily, gave a weak smile and nodded again. "I'll be fine. Don't worry." With a sigh, Lee closed his eyes as he gave the driver his address. The driver stared at him for a few moments more, then shook his head and took off.

With the heavy afternoon traffic, it took almost 45 minutes for them to reach Lee's beachfront home. The driver pulled to a halt near the front porch and looked back at his passenger. "Uh, mister?" he asked hesitantly, "We're here."

Lee's eyes fluttered as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He had dozed on and off during the trip and hadn't realized they had arrived. The driver leaped out of the car and quickly opened the rear door of the taxi and helped Lee climb out. Lee was shaking and knew he would have trouble making it into the house. He turned to the anxious driver. "If you can lend me a hand inside, I have your money there."

"OK, mister," said the man holding firmly to Lee's elbow, "But I think maybe you shoulda stayed in the hospital. You don't look so good."

Twenty minutes later, Lee, cocooned in a heavy blanket, lay on his back deck watching the rolling surf of the Pacific Ocean. Despite the warmth of the late afternoon sun, he was shivering. _Damn fever_ he thought impatiently He had taken some aspirin earlier, but it didn't seem to have accomplished much. He sighed wearily. It felt so good to be home, however he was fully aware that Doc or Admiral Nelson would likely be around soon. Lee was so tired of it all. He just wanted some time alone to think things through. He had no doubt that Rollins was telling the truth. The admiral probably hadn't mentioned anything because he was trying to reverse the order but it didn't look like that was likely to happen. Lee shivered again. He felt so numb. He just couldn't comprehend the fact he was no longer the commander of the _Seaview, _his Grey Lady. What was he going to do now?


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Since we're leaving town for 10 days, I will post 3 chapters today and the final three tomorrow. I hope you all enjoy and thanks again for the reviews!**

**Chapter 16**

As Admiral Nelson strode down the hallway towards Lee's room he could hear a disturbance near the nurses' station. "What do you mean you don't know where he is!" Nelson tensed as he recognized Will Jamison's angry voice. That couldn't mean anything good.

"What's going on?" asked Nelson as he approached the doctor. Two nurses were standing near the desk looking frustrated and upset.

Jamison turned to Nelson, his jaw clenched, "Captain Crane seems to have disappeared."

Nelson frowned. "What do you mean _disappeared_? When was the last time anyone saw him?"

One of the nurses stepped forward. "I saw him around 3:00 this afternoon when that senator asked to see him."

Nelson stiffened. "Senator?"

The nurse nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she turned to the admiral. "Yes, he said his name was Rollins and that it was very important that he talk to Captain Crane. I went to check on the Captain maybe an hour later and he was gone." She frowned and shook her head. "Admiral, I just don't see how Captain Crane could have left on his own. He could barely stand!"

Nelson and Jamison exchanged bemused glances. If anyone could escape from the hospital even while seriously ill, Captain Crane would be the one. A moment later a security guard hurried to the small gathering. "Excuse me, Admiral," he panted removing his hat, "I just checked with gate security and one guard reported seeing a cab taking a man fitting the Captain's description out a few hours ago. We tracked down the driver and he confirmed taking such a person to the Captain's address," the guard paused. "The driver said he thought the man should have stayed in the hospital."

"All right," sighed Nelson, "Come on, Doc, we'd better go see if Lee survived the trip." Nodding his thanks to the nurse and security guard, Nelson led Jamison from the hospital and out to his car.

Before starting the car, he turned to Jamison. "I need to tell you something, Will," he said heavily. Jamison looked at him curiously. "I was told last week that Lee would no longer be the commander of the _Seaview_. Rollins is the chair of the subcommittee in charge of congressional funding for the _Seaview_ and he and his friends apparently decided Lee costs the government too much money and demanded I replace him. I have been trying to call in every favor I could to get some help but Rollins' committee has too much financial clout and no one wanted to jeopardize their own projects' funding. Obviously Rollins came here today to tell Lee the bad news in person."

Jamison blinked, opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound. "Are…are you _sure?"_ he finally spluttered. "But…they can't fire the Skipper!"

"They have," spat Nelson his knuckles white against the steering wheel. "I was going to break the news to him today but Rollins beat me to it."

"Admiral, this is terrible!" Jamison shook his head in disbelief. "You know how important the _Seaview_ is to the Captain! It's been the only thing keeping him together!"

"Yes, yes, I know!" replied Nelson through gritted teeth. "Chip said the same thing when I told him. Believe me, I have done everything I can possibly think of to get Lee reinstated. No one is willing to go against Rollins!" Angrily he struck the steering wheel with his fist. "I won't give up. Somehow or another, we _will _get Lee back." With those words, he thrust the key into the ignition and started the car. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the beach and Lee's home. Nelson prayed that they would find Lee safe and sound.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Lee?"

Lee's eyes snapped open. For a few moments, he blinked in confusion uncertain of where he was. It was oddly dark in his room. And chilly.

"Lee?" He turned towards the deep voice and frowned. He couldn't quite figure out who was talking to him. He became vaguely aware of a cool hand on his throbbing forehead and a second voice spoke quietly to the first.

"Just as I suspected, he's burning up. Better help me get him inside." Lee felt firm hands lift and carry him inside then gently place him on a bed. Lee struggled to sit up. "Easy Captain," soothed the voice. Lee now recognized it as belonging to Dr. Jamison. "I've got something that should make you feel a bit better." Lee flinched as he felt the needle enter his hip. When he was done, Jamison carefully covered Lee with another blanket as Lee slipped back into sleep.

Jamison shook his head as he stared at the thermometer in his hand and turned to the admiral hovering nearby. "I have no idea how he made it all the way from the medical center in his present condition. He's running a fever of 103º and has barely been out of bed in weeks. He shouldn't have been able to walk across the room much less make it home!"

Nelson gave a wry grin as he stared down at the pale form on the bed. "Well, when Lee Crane makes up his mind to do something, a little thing like typhoid fever or a gunshot wound certainly isn't going to stop him." He paused for a moment. "The question is what do we do now? Do we take him back to the hospital?

Jamison sighed as he slipped the thermometer into his bag. "I just don't know, Admiral. Normally, I would say yes, but I almost wonder if being in his own surroundings might be better for him right now. We would have to get him some in-home nursing care though. He's definitely in no shape to be left alone."

Nelson nodded as he gazed down on his sleeping friend. "I'll take care of it," he said. "Even if Rollins has fired him as commander of the _Seaview_, as far as I'm concerned, he's still an employee of the Nelson Institute."

"Well, we'll leave him here for the time being," replied Jamison. "I'll contact the hospital and stay with him until we can get someone in. However, if he gets any worse, we'll have to take him back." He studied Crane for a moment then shook his head sadly. "I'll admit though, I am worried about how the news of his dismissal is going to affect him. He's been fighting depression as it is. His health is precarious enough without any further setbacks." With another sigh, he turned and left the room to notify the hospital

Silently, Nelson watched Lee for a few minutes more. He too would spend the night, he decided. He wanted an opportunity to explain things to Lee; to let him know that there was still hope; that they would get him reinstated. Nelson was confident that once Lee was back on his feet, they would be able to work things out. They would just have to be patient. But just how patient could Lee be he wondered?

Lee awoke slowly the next morning. He was keenly aware that his entire body ached and even the simple movement of turning over was a major effort. He moaned softly as he shifted his position. Things felt different he realized and as he opened his eyes, he was startled by the bright sunlight shining in through the open window. He realized he could smell salt on the gentle morning breeze and hear the surf in the distance. He was home!

With great difficulty, he managed to push himself into a sitting position so he could see out the French doors leading to his balcony. How he had missed the sea! Suddenly he froze. The sea. It all came back to him: the meeting with Rollins, his dismissal as commander of the _Seaview, _his escape from the hospital. It seemed more like a nightmare now, but Lee knew it had been as real as everything else he had experienced since that fateful night in December. He slumped back against the pillows feeling a blanket of hopelessness descend upon him. He had lost his true love. What was left for him now? Would the Navy even allow him another sub after Rollins' hatchet job?

His reverie was broken by a gentle knock. Before he could answer, the door swung open and Dr. Jamison's head poked through. He smiled broadly when he noticed Lee was awake.

"Well, well, well Skipper," he said shaking his head as he sauntered into the room. "You certainly gave us the slip this time. The entire hospital was in an uproar after you disappeared. When I called them last night to let everyone know we had found you, no one could believe you had actually made it here under your own steam. Obviously, they don't know you as well as I do!"

Lee gave the doc a faint smile in response, but Jamison could tell his heart wasn't in it. The doctor took out his thermometer and popped it under Lee's tongue. ""Let's just see how much damage your little excursion has done, shall we?" He smiled as Lee rolled his eyes. Jamison was fully aware of how much the Skipper hated that "we" stuff doctors insisted on using. Jamison busied himself with taking the Captain's other vitals, checking his dressing, etc. Lee stoically withstood the prodding and poking doing his best to ignore the pain. Finally, it was done and Jamison studied his results.

"Well Captain, your temperature is down to 101º this morning, so that's a little better. Your blood pressure is still lower than I would like. Thankfully your bullet wound didn't reopen. How are you feeling overall?"

Lee gave short laugh. "If I told you I felt fine would you believe me?"

Jamison laughed as well. "No."

"All right then," sighed Lee wearily, "I feel rotten. I'm sorry, Doc. I just had to get out of that hospital. I guess I wasn't really thinking clearly."

"I'd say that was an understatement. Frankly, I would like nothing better than to haul you back to the hospital right now. You know that's where you belong." Jamison paused, studying Lee's wretched expression. "Skipper, Admiral Nelson told me about…about Rollins and the subcommittee's demands." He just couldn't bring himself to say "fired". "But don't you worry about that. You know the Admiral. He'll move heaven and earth to get you back on the _Seaview _. What you need to concentrate on right now is getting well. He won't have much of an argument if you're still flat on your back."

Lee closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at the doctor. "Doc, I don't know what I'll do if he can't get me reinstated." His words were so soft Jamison almost missed them.

"Captain…Lee…listen to me." Jamison laid a hand on Lee's arm to get his attention. "You _cannot_ go on thinking like that. Negative thoughts will only add to your problems and delay your recovery. I know how much the _Seaview_ means to you as well as how important you are to the _Seaview. _You must believe that we _will_ get you back as our skipper!"

Lee blinked, feeling tears prickling the backs of his eyes. Yes, he had to think positively. Nelson had accomplished some absolute miracles in the past, so there was no reason to believe he couldn't pull this off as well. He gave the doctor a weak grin. "I'll do my best to remember that, Doc. It won't always be easy though."

Doc patted his shoulder and turned to leave. "I'll let the Admiral know you're awake," he said, "Then bring you some breakfast. You need to eat more, Captain."

Lee watched him leave then slumped back against the pillows, once more feeling hopelessness wash over him. He would do his best to keep up a front, but in his heart, there was nothing but despair.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Nelson sat at his cabin desk glumly sorting through some papers. The _Seaview_ was preparing to head towards the Arctic to do some routine surveys under the ice. Normally such a trip wouldn't be any cause for concern but Nelson was worried. He wasn't anxious about the conditions, although going under the ice pack was always risky; no he was concerned about the last minute passengers that had just boarded. Last night he had received orders to allow Senator Rollins and two of his subcommittee members to ride along on this trip to observe how _Seaview_ operates. Nelson had been furious. As if that little weasel, Rollins, hadn't caused enough trouble! Nelson slammed his fist down on his desk in fury. He had been keeping his temper under control so far, but every time he thought of Lee huddled miserably on his porch watching his friends leaving on their mission, it was all Nelson could do to keep himself from finding Rollins and throttling him! Biting back a curse, he shook his throbbing hand. That was certainly stupid, but it did make him feel a little better.

He shook his head and sighed. He would have to go to the observation nose shortly to greet his guests. He would rather tangle with some rampaging plant monster or homicidal alien than deal with those pencil-pushing politicians. His intercom crackled and Chip Morton's voice came through. "Admiral, we're ready to depart." Chip had been doing an admirable job as the acting captain but Nelson knew how much Crane's situation disturbed the crew. Chief Sharkey along with crewmen Kowalski and Patterson were especially incensed by the treatment of their beloved skipper. Since they had been instrumental in his rescue from Serbia and they were taking his dismissal very personally. Patterson, recovered from his leg wound, had just rejoined the crew. Nelson thought perhaps it best not to leave the visitors alone with any of those three.

"All right, Chip," he responded. "Let's go. Tell Senator Rollins and the others I'll meet them in the observation nose."

"Aye, aye, sir." Morton clicked off.

With another weary sigh, Nelson rose to his feet and headed out the door. Within minutes he found himself in the observation nose with the three senators. "Good morning, gentlemen," Nelson said cordially eying his guests with little enthusiasm.

Besides Rollins, there were two others. Senator Michaels was a large man standing well over six feet and 250 lbs. He looked jovial but Nelson was well aware of the shrewd, calculating mind behind that placid demeanor. Senator Kerr was a short, older man with a world-weary expression. He was absently running his hand through his thinning hair as he watched the scene outside the observation windows.

The three men turned as Nelson greeted them but did not look especially pleased to see him. "Good morning, Admiral," replied Rollins staring coldly at Nelson. Rollins had frankly never thought the government should fund any of this so-called civilian research vessel's work. Didn't they have a perfectly good navy for that sort of thing? He also was irritated that the crew so far had been less than warm towards him. It seemed that every seaman aboard this sub was glaring at him and Rollins was not used to anything less than servile respect from his subordinates; especially those who wanted to keep their projects funded.

"Interesting view, Admiral," commented Michaels staring out the view port. "How deep will we be going?" Nelson noticed the senator looked a little nervous.

"Oh, about 1000 feet," replied Nelson casually. Inwardly, he smiled as he watched the three politicians tense.

"Uh," began Kerr nervously, "And this is _under_ the ice? I mean, we won't be able to just surface at any time?"

Nelson shook his head solemnly. "No, unless we find a clear lead of water, we'll be stuck under the ice until we clear the ice pack. But don't worry, we've done this many times before and usually have no trouble getting back." He turned to hide his smile as he noticed Kerr blanch at the prospect of getting stuck under hundreds of feet of solid ice.

"Admiral," interrupted Rollins abruptly, "I think we had better discuss the point of our visit. We have had some concern that our money is being wasted on frivolous missions. I mean, is all this 'research' absolutely necessary? We also find some of your so-called scientific findings a bit far-fetched. Giant jelly fish? Menfish? _Aliens_? I mean, really. One would think you weren't getting quite enough oxygen down here."

Nelson glared at Rollins, doing his best to maintain his composure. Rollins had absolutely no idea what horrors the _Seaview_ had faced in her years of service, and her survival had often been due to the quick thinking responses of her skipper, Captain Crane. "Well Senator," Nelson replied stiffly, "Let us hope our mission this time is a bit more mundane. We will be mapping the thickness of the ice as well as surveying possible sea life at some of the greater depths. There has been a lot of concern about the effect of global warming on the arctic environment, as you well know. I think perhaps after you have all seen the submarine itself, you might have a better feel for how important our work is."

Rollins nodded and while the other two tried to look interested, they were more fascinated by view outside. Nelson motioned to Lt. O'Brien to join them. "Mr. O'Brien will be happy to give you a tour of the sub," said Nelson to his guests. "If you have any questions about its operation, I'm sure he can fill you in." O'Brien glanced uncertainly at Nelson then greeted the visitors as he began to usher them out of the observation area.

Nelson watched with visible irritation as the group disappeared. Chip joined him a few moments later. "They should be a fun bunch," he commented dryly.

Nelson snorted. "They'll be lucky if the crew doesn't cram them into the torpedo tubes and blast them into the sea. Especially that Rollins. I don't know if I hope we do have a smooth, uneventful trip or if it would better to be attacked by some sea monster just to prove to those idiots what we really have to deal with!"

Chip stood silently for a few moments, his face thoughtful. "It also doesn't help that those are the guys that dry docked Lee."

"Hmmph," grunted the Admiral, his scowl deepening. "Just keep them out of my way as much as possible. Let them see what they want but don't let them touch anything! I'll be in my cabin." With that, Nelson turned and disappeared up the spiral stairway.

Chip sighed morosely as he returned to the plotting table. It was bad enough having the admiral in such a foul temper, but when Lee wasn't there to mediate, you never knew when Nelson might blow. Those senators certainly weren't helping things either. Chip could feel the animosity emanating from the crew almost as if it were a visible force. It hadn't taken long for word to get around that Rollins and his minions were responsible for the skipper's dismissal. The crew was nothing if not fiercely loyal to _Seaview_'s captain. Certainly they had been cooperative with Chip as acting skipper because they knew he wanted Crane back as much as any of them but Chip was fully aware that if Nelson was forced to bring in a new commander, mutiny might not have been a farfetched idea. He glanced around at the control room crewmen. None of them looked happy; this could be a very long cruise indeed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Lee sat quietly in the chaise lounge on his deck staring sightlessly at the ocean, his lunch sitting untouched beside him. He spent hours out here as long as the weather was decent and would have even slept out here if Margaret, his live-in nurse would have allowed it. She was a warm, friendly person but had a core of steel that would brook no foolishness if she felt it could be detrimental to her patient. Lee had learned that quickly enough.

Margaret stood now at the French doors and watched him silently. She was worried. Ever since the _Seaview_ had left port four days ago, the captain had slid further and further into a deep depression. He barely ate and she doubted he slept much. She had, on a couple of occasions, managed to slip him a sleeping pill but he had wised up and refused to eat or drink anything else until she promised not to repeat the action. Reluctantly she had agreed. She knew when he did sleep he was often plagued by terrible nightmares. Dr. Jamison had briefly explained what had recently happened to the captain and it was obvious that some of those experiences had left very deep wounds. Margaret had worked in military hospitals for years and fully understood how damaged some of the soldiers were after their experiences. She had little doubt that the captain would need a long time to recover from his. But most of all, she knew he was grieving for his loss of the _Seaview. _She sighed softly, turned and returned to the house.

Lee was dimly aware of Margaret's presence at the doorway and felt a small wave of relief when she left. He knew having her here was essential to his recovery but he resented having to be constantly watched over. He yearned for his freedom and his health. Most of all, he yearned to return to the sea. The sound of the waves was bittersweet. They were soothing in their repetitive roar against the rocks but also a constant reminder of what he had lost.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Admiral Nelson tried to concentrate on the water samples he was testing but was having a difficult time. His mind kept wandering to their current situation. The three senators had been a major nuisance; constantly following him around demanding explanations of what the _Seaview_ was supposed to be accomplishing as well as the constant carping on the expense of everything. Nelson could feel himself bristling at the memories one of the recent arguments he had had with Rollins concerning which manufacturers the subcommittee would support. Nelson had been forced to switch to companies he felt did not produce the same quality parts as some of his preferred vendors but knowing he had to pick his battles, he acquiesced and hoped for the best. Now Rollins wanted him to cut back even more and Nelson had balked feeling that some of Rollins' demands could put the safety of the ship and its crew into danger. This last demand had to do with food no less. Rollins believed that the crew should be eating less costly meals and Nelson had no doubt he would have preferred the crew start eating hardtack and salt pork like the sailing crews of old. The man was an idiot.

With a growl of irritation, Nelson pushed the microscope away and ran his hand through his sandy red hair. It was no use. As much as he wanted to immerse himself in his studies, he just couldn't focus. His thoughts also wandered to Lee. He was worried about his friend and having to look at Rollins and his cronies every day wasn't helping. There had to be some way to reinstate Lee as captain of the _Seaview _and Nelson was determined to find it.

He sighed again and decided to take a break. Maybe a cup of coffee would help. However, just has he stood up he felt an odd shudder run through the ship and the lights dimmed. He then found himself thrown across the room as the _Seaview_ abruptly rocked from one side to the other. He grabbed onto the corner of the lab table and held on tight as the _Seaview_ continued to buck until at last, with a final thud, all was still. Grunting in pain, he pulled himself to his feet, grabbed for the mike and punched the button. "Control room! What's going on?"

It was a few moments before Chip's calm voice came through. "There seems to be a problem with the nuclear reactor, Admiral. I have men on it now. However, we only have emergency power and are dead on the bottom. "

Nelson's frown grew deeper. "I'm on my way to the reactor room," he barked and hurried out of the lab. When he reached the reactor room, he could see a crew of men huddled around the machinery with Chief Sharkey carefully monitoring the situation.

"What's going on, Chief?"

Sharkey turned around and approached Nelson, "It looks like a failed valve in the reactor cooling system, sir. We've had to shut the whole thing down so we can replace it."

Nelson nodded calmly but inside he was seething. Those parts had been supplied by the manufacturer the subcommittee had insisted he use. He and Sharkey watched as the men quickly went about their work. Just as Nelson was about to leave, Patterson approached holding the faulty valve.

"Look at this, sir," the crewman said in disgust, "The metal is cracked clear through." A moment later, Kowalski came hurrying up with two more valves in his hands.

"Admiral, sir," he said in concern, "All of these valves are faulty. Look!" He pointed to the minute cracks in the metal. "Not only are they all cracked, but they aren't even the right size!" He held the two valves side by side and it became apparent that openings were considerably different both from each other and from the one Patterson held.

"They're ALL like that?" Nelson demanded in disbelief. "We don't have any of the original replacements?"

Sharkey frowned, thinking hard. "I know there were a couple left in the warehouse back in Santa Barbara," he replied slowly. "But all the replacement parts on board are from that new company, Carson Manufacturing."

Nelson stared mutely at the faulty parts. This was a serious problem. If they had no replacement parts they couldn't repair the reactor and without the reactor, they had no power. With no power, they'd all be dead in less than 24 hours.

Loud voices startled him out of his reverie and he looked up in time to see Rollins, followed closely by Kerr and Michaels. One of the crewmen was trying to prevent them from approaching the reactor room.

"Admiral Nelson!" bellowed Rollins from the end of the corridor, "What is going on here? I demand to know why this idiot will not allow us through!"

Sharkey glanced apprehensively at the Admiral as he noted the tightening of Nelson's jaw. He edged back slightly as his commanding officer turned to face the intruders.

"Do you really want to know what the problem is, Senator?" snapped Nelson, his knuckles whitening around the valve in his hand. "Do you really want to know why you, I, and this entire crew could now be facing death because of _your _unending meddling and penny-pinching!" He thrust the valves at the approaching senator who took them in surprise. "See these valves? These are absolutely essential for the operation of the reactor. Without these, the reactor will overheat and kill everyone on board, including _you_! All these valves are completely useless and would fail immediately should we install them. And do you know _why _these are all useless? Because YOU demanded we use Carson Manufacturing! Now we have no way to repair the reactor and in less than 24 hours, we'll all be dead unless we can figure out a way to fix this!" Breathing hard, he stood glaring balefully at the shocked senators.

Swallowing hard, Rollins looked away at Nelson and stared at the valve he now held. "I…uh…" for once in his life, Rollins was speechless. The other two senators stared at Nelson, aghast at this news.

"We…we're going to _die!"_ croaked Kerr, panic evident in his voice. "But that can't happen! I'm a United States _senator!" _His eyes were wide as he looked wildly about as if for some escape.

"Well, I'm a United States admiral," snapped Nelson, "And it doesn't make a damn bit of difference! Unless we can figure out a way to fix this problem, no one will make it off this submarine alive." He took a deep breath and glanced at Sharked and the anxious crewmen. "Carry on, Chief," he growled. "I'm going up to talk to Mr. Morton."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Sharked quietly and he turned to shepherd the men back to work. The three senators stood silently in shock; Rollins absently turning the useless valve in his hands. Then, as one, they turned and headed back the way they had come.

Chip looked up, his face grim, as the admiral entered the control room. "Is it as bad as Sharkey says?" he asked.

Nelson leaned wearily against the plotting table rubbing his aching forehead. "Yes. None of the valves we have will work and the emergency generator will only work for maybe 12 more hours."

Chip nodded and turned the chart on the table. "Unfortunately, we can't launch the flying sub because of our position on the bottom so I've looked up every ship in the area," he reported, "But none of them are in any position to help us. Besides, the only ship that could possible reach us under all this ice is another submarine and there aren't any this far north."

Nelson sighed again. "Plus, we have to allow for the time to retrieve the parts from Santa Barbara." The two men stared at the charts as if hoping an answer could be found there.

"Sir…" began Chip hesitantly, "There is one possibility."

Nelson turned to him expectantly. "Well, out with it Chip! At this point, any idea is welcome."

Chip rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "Well, I was thinking. There is one vessel that could possibly reach us in time with the part." He paused again then said, "The Flying Sub 2 prototype."

Nelson stared at him in a moment in surprise. Of course! The FS2! It was there in Santa Barbara all ready and could come directly to the _Seaview. _

"The Flying Sub 2?" asked a voice behind them. Nelson turned to see Rollins standing there, pale but obviously in control. "Isn't that an experimental vehicle?"

Nelson was tempted to throw the man out of the control room, but held his temper. "Yes," he replied tightly, "But it is a working model that I believe could make it up here." Then he stopped, frowning. Yes, it could make it up here but there were only two people who knew how the thing worked: himself…and Lee Crane.

As if he were reading the admiral's mind, Chip spoke up again. "But do you think Lee would be up to flying especially under such challenging conditions?"

"Lee _Crane_?" asked Rollins, his voice rising in disbelief. "Admiral, that man has no business flying a kite much less a sophisticated piece of machinery like a flying submarine! Not only is he physically incapacitated but he has no authorization!"

"Lee Crane may be our only hope of survival!" roared Nelson, his patience finally at an end. "There is no one, including myself, who knows that machine as well as he does! As far as I can see, having him bring that part up to us is the only chance we have. Unless you have a better idea?" Rollins glared at him in silence. "And one more thing," said Nelson stepping closer to the senator. "If Captain Crane does indeed make it here with the replacement parts and we get out of here alive, I will insist that he be reinstated as captain of this vessel. Do I make myself clear?"

Realizing that in this particular situation he was out of his depth, Rollins took a step backwards but he was not defeated. "I can assure you, Admiral," he said through gritted teeth, "As soon as I get back to Washington, there will be a full investigation of this incident! If I have my way, you'll be lucky to get enough money for staples and Crane will be lucky if he can get a job on a tramp steamer!" He then turned and stalked from the control room. Chip and Nelson watched him go with relief and returned to their current problem.

Despite what he had said to Rollins, Nelson had grave misgivings about asking Lee to attempt this rescue. He knew his friend would jump at the chance to help his crew and save the _Seaview _but at what cost to himself? "I don't think we really have a choice," said Chip softly, again reading the Admiral's thoughts. "He's the only one that knows how to fly the FS2."

Nelson nodded slowly knowing that Chip was right but he didn't like it. He placed a hand on Chip's shoulder and turned towards the radio shack. "Sparks," he said, "Get me the Nelson Institute."


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Here are the last 3 chapters of this story. We're leaving town and I wanted to get them in before we left. Thanks so much for all of you have been reading and special thanks to those who took the time to review. I hope you enjoy the end of the story!

**Chapter 19**

Lee stood by the edge of the water on the beach outside his home. The sun was just rising and he loved the solitude of the early dawn. He had taken to coming here every morning and then taking short walks along the beach. His stamina was slowly building but not nearly as quickly as would have liked. It was so frustrating. It seemed like every time he made some progress, he would develop a fever again and end up back in bed for a day or two. It was if he couldn't completely shake the typhoid bug despite all the medication Margaret was practically force-feeding him. He pulled his sweater a little more tightly around his slight frame and watched absently as a flock of seagulls wheeled overhead, their raucous calls filling the silence.

"Captain!" Lee's reverie was broken by a distant call. He turned and saw Margaret waving to him on the deck of the house, a phone clutched in her hand. Lee sighed. It was probably his mother, again forgetting the three hour time difference between California and Rhode Island. He gave a little shrug of resignation and made his way slowly back to the house.

Margaret met him at the top of the stairs leading from the beach to the deck. "It's the Nelson Institute," she said handing him the phone. "They say it's urgent!"

Lee stared at her in surprise for a moment before placing the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Lee?" came Angie's breathless voice, "Oh thank goodness! Please hold while I patch you through to Admiral Nelson."

Nelson? Lee frowned. This was odd. A moment later, Nelson's voice came through sounding distant and tinny. "Lee? Is that you?"

"Yes, Admiral," replied Lee, "I'm here. What seems to be the problem?"

"Lee," continued the Admiral urgently, "We have had a breakdown in the reactor cooling system due to faulty parts. There are some replacements in the warehouse and I've given Angie the information. She's having them picked up. Now, here is the problem. The only way we can get those parts here in time is if you can fly them here in the FS2. We have an emergency generator going but it's not going to hold up much longer. They're already doing everything they can to keep our air flowing but it could go at any minute." Nelson paused then said, "Lee, I know you're still recovering, but do you think you are up to this mission? The weather reports up over Alaska and the Bering Strait are not good so you could be flying through some rough conditions. We are 2000 ft below the ice. It will be very demanding even for someone in tiptop condition." He stopped again. He knew how desperate their situation was but Nelson still felt very uncomfortable bringing Lee into this.

"Admiral," replied Lee, with new strength in his voice, "I will do everything I can to get those parts to you. I'll head over to the Institute immediately."

"Lee," said Nelson quietly, "I've given Angie our coordinates but," he hesitated again, "are you _certain _you are up to this?"

Lee gave a short, humorless laugh, "Of course not, Admiral, but I would rather die trying to save my friends and my ship than sit here on the beach safe and sound waiting to get better. I'm the only logical one to do this. I at least know how to operate the FS2 and have spent more hours testing it than anyone alive. If I can't bring it safely to you, no one can, healthy or not! Just hang in there Admiral, help is on the way." And before Nelson could utter another word, Lee broke the connection.

Lee stood silently for a few moments, the phone forgotten in his hand. His mind whirled as he considered all the aspects of this upcoming mission and he could feel his excitement growing. At last! He could do something _useful _again!

"Captain?" Lee blinked to find Margaret peering at him in concern. "Is everything all right?"

Lee grinned back, his face alight with anticipation. "Everything is just fine!"

Lee quickly outlined the situation to the nurse. She frowned doubtfully. "Captain, I don't know that you're up to this yet!"

Lee brushed past the nurse as he hurried inside to pack a few essentials. "Margaret," he replied as she followed him in, "There isn't any choice. One hundred and twenty five men are trapped in that sub and I'm the only one that can reach them. I've sat around for weeks now absolutely useless. Now I finally have the chance to _do_ something! I'm not going to let them die if I can help it!"

Margaret watched silently. She knew he was right. He could never live with himself if those men died and he could have done something to prevent it. She studied him with a practiced eye. He was still very thin and far from his fighting strength. The intermittent fevers had taken their toll and she knew he had little stamina. But, he was determined and she knew he had survived a lot in his relatively short career. She expected this mission, if successful, could easily cause a major set-back in the Captain's recovery or, she noted philosophically, it could be what finally moved it ahead.

"I'll drive you to the Institute," she said quietly. Lee looked up at her about to argue. "No, Captain, you need to think about what you're going to be doing, and I can bring the car back here. Besides, you'll need what little strength you have to fly that plane or whatever it is and my car is safer in traffic than your little red monstrosity! "

Lee gave a little laugh. Here he was planning on flying an experimental aircraft thousands of miles into the Arctic in who knew what kind of conditions, and Margaret didn't want him driving a car through Santa Barbara! He shook his head in amusement and finished packing. He straightened a little too quickly and held out a hand to steady himself as a slight wave of dizziness slid over him. He shook himself, grabbed his bag and turned to find Margaret watching him uncertainly. He averted his eyes and hurried out to the car, tossing his bag into the back seat. He would be fine! With a sigh, Margaret settled herself behind the driver's seat of her small SUV. As soon as Lee was settled, she turned on the ignition and headed away from the house. She glanced at the Captain's pale, thin face and prayed that he would make it back safely.

The traffic was light that early in the morning but signs of the rush hour to come were there. The guard at the gate had been expecting them and waved them through. Margaret stopped at the front of the Institute's main building and turned to face Lee. "You be careful, Captain," she admonished, "I don't like having all my hard work go to waste!"

Lee grinned back at her and held her hand for a moment. "Thank you, Margaret," he replied. "You have been an angel and believe me, I'll do everything I can to make it back in one piece! Besides, Dr. Jamison will be on board when I get there." Margaret nodded silently, tears glistening in her eyes. Lee gave her one last encouraging smile and climbed out of the car, grabbing his small bag from the seat behind him. As soon as he closed the car door, he turned and headed up the Institute steps. Margaret watched him disappear inside the doors then turned the car around and headed home.

Lee hurried down the hallway to the Admiral's office. Angie was waiting for him. With a big smile, she threw her arms around him and gave him a big, welcoming hug. "Long time, no see, stranger!" she laughed. She stepped back and regarded him appraisingly. "Look like you still need some fattening up!"

Lee laughed, ignoring the doubt he saw in her eyes. "I just missed Cookie's fine gourmet meals! Once I'm back on board the _Seaview _they won't be able to keep me out of the officer's mess!" He set down his bag and grew serious. "Do you have the replacement parts?"

Angie nodded. "They're on board the FS2. I had them grab all the ones NOT made by Carson Manufacturing. I think there were four." She turned to her desk and picked up a piece of paper. "Here are the coordinates for the _Seaview_ as well as the current weather conditions all the way up to the ice pack."

Lee studied them. If time wasn't of the essence, he could just travel underwater in the areas of bad weather but that would slow him down considerably. _Well_, he thought, i_f it gets too bad I might still have to do that but the FS2 has had some problems transitioning from air to water so hopefully I can fly the whole way to the ice pack._

He now looked up at Angie. "Is the FS2 ready to go?"

She nodded unhappily. Lee still looked so ill and she worried he wouldn't be up to this. But, she knew she could never say anything. He was the _Seaview's _best hope.

"Okay," said Lee, folding the paper and placing it into the pocket of his black leather flight jacket. "I'm going."

"Be careful, Lee," replied Angie softly. He gave her a smile and left. She returned to her desk and sat heavily. Would any of them return alive?

As Lee soared over the gray waters of the Pacific, he studied the controls of the FS2. As familiar as he was with the craft he was fully aware of the fact that this was a prototype and still had bugs to work out. The new propulsion system was not always as reliable as he would like especially when dropping out of the sky into water. It had to tendency to die. The mechanics assured him it was working fine now. He double checked the coordinates he had punched into the navicomputer and was satisfied they were on course to the Arctic.

He adjusted the wavelength on the radio and pushed the call button. "FS2 to _Seaview_. FS2 to _Seaview_. Come in, _Seaview_. Over." He waited impatiently for a reply. A few moments later Sparks' voice came through.

"This is _Seaview._ We read you loud and clear, FS2. Please hold for Admiral Nelson."

"Lee?"

"Hello, Admiral!" Lee replied in relief. "I'm on my way with your replacement parts. I should be there in…" he checked his watch, "Approximately 8 hours. What is your situation?"

"We're still holding on," responded the Admiral, the strain evident in his voice, "But you'll be cutting it close. Our air revitalization system is not working properly on the emergency generator but we should be able to hang on until you get here."

"Don't worry, Admiral. I'll be there as soon as I possibly can!"

After the Admiral had signed off, Lee again studied his charts hoping to find a faster way to reach the _Seaview_. He knew it was pointless but it made him feel better. With a sigh, he sat back and closed his eyes for a moment. He suddenly felt exhaustion engulf him and he shivered. He sat up straighter and rubbed his eyes trying to relieve the dull ache that had started there. No! He didn't have time for this! He shook his head in irritation. He knew the signs; the fever was coming back. He'd taken his medication before he left but he knew it wasn't helping much anymore. Well, there was nothing to be done about it. He'd just have to hope it wasn't too bad this time. He needed his wits about him, especially as he approached the Bering Strait. He checked his watch. There were still many hours to go.

Admiral Nelson sat at his desk staring thoughtfully into the distance. Things were going from bad to worse on the _Seaview _since the air revitalization system had started malfunctioning. The air quality was deteriorating rapidly. The crewmen, most of who had been through this before, went about their business with a certain stoic resignation, but the three senators were another matter. When Kerr had dramatically collapsed into panic-stricken hysterics, Nelson had ordered the doc to give the man a sedative. Rollins, Nelson had to admit, had kept his head, but his constant carping had finally driven Nelson to confine him and Michaels to their cabins. The crew had enough to worry about without listening to those two fools.

Nelson sighed again, his thoughts turning to Lee. Could he really make it all the way to their position under the ice in his weakened condition? He had spoken quietly to Dr. Jamison about it and Nelson had to chuckle a little as he recalled the doctor's appalled reaction. "Lee shouldn't even be out of the hospital!" Jamison had argued, "Much less flying halfway around the world!" But, in the end, he too had to admit that Lee was their best hope.

A loud, demanding knock drew his attention away from his worries. He frowned and called, "Come in." He stifled a groan as Rollins stormed in through the doorway. The senator's face was full of fury.

"All right, Admiral," he snarled without preamble, "As I understand it, we are dead on the bottom and our power is all but gone which means what little air we have left will also soon be gone. What are you doing about this?"

Nelson glared at the man for a few moments before answering. "My men are working to do what they can to keep the emergency generator going. We have contacted the Navy but as we expected, none of their vessels are in a position to help us although several are heading this way. Our best hope is still Captain Crane."

"Crane!" spat the senator in disbelief. "You really expect him to make it all the way here in time? Crane has guts, I'll give you that, but to stake our lives on an invalid's ability to fly all the way to the Arctic from California in some experimental flying submarine seems like a very long shot." He paused a moment, his eyes narrowing. "Wait a moment, Admiral. Don't you already have a flying sub aboard this vessel? You could easily get me and the others off and to safety!"

Nelson rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Yes, Senator, we _could _take you off the _Seaview_ IF we weren't sitting on the bottom of the ocean! The FS1 exits from below so there is no way to launch her in our current position. I'm afraid you're stuck here with the rest of us. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to be done."

Rollins stood there several moments longer as if ignoring the obvious dismissal. Then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the office. Nelson watched him go in relief. Again he ran his hand through his ruffled hair. _You'd better hurry, Lee,_ he thought wearily, _Or I may have to kill that man myself!_


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Lee was startled awake by a loud beeping. Adrenaline pumping, he jumped in his seat at first confused by his surroundings. He stared around wildly as he took in the control panel in front of him trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The flying sub! He was flying the FS2 to rescue the _Seaview. _He blinked and tried to determine the source of the alarm. He studied the navicomputer readout and realized he was veering off course. He had engaged the autopilot so he could rest but there was something wrong. He put the controls back on manual and frowned at the sluggish response of the craft. He checked the weather and realized the wind had picked up dramatically. Suddenly the FS2 bucked and dropped as it was buffeted by the increasingly fierce winds. Lee fought desperately with the controls to keep the flying sub level and on course. He quickly realized he had flown into the bad weather Nelson had warned him about. A moment later, he was in the center of a maelstrom; winds of over 150 mph and snow blinding him.

He looked at his charts studying his position. He was over land which was not good. The FS2 was not equipped to land in snow. His only hope was to find open water but according to the map, that was several hundred miles to the west. He had hoped to stay closer to the coast but apparently another of those little bugs had other ideas and the navicomputer had gradually sent him further east. Lee cursed under his breath as he fought the controls. His head was throbbing and his previously injured arm ached. He gritted his teeth and poured every ounce of strength he had into getting the FS2 back on course. The winds continued to buffet the small craft with frequent stomach-churning drops. Lee's face and shirt was soaked with sweat and his breath came in ragged gasps. He tried pulling the FS2 up in hopes of getting above the worst of the storm but it fought him and refused to respond. Lee was getting worried.

A loud alarm wailed loudly above the roar of the storm and with a cry of shock Lee gaped through a break in the swirling snow at the sheer face of a mountain looming before him, rapidly closing in. Desperately, Lee pulled on the controls trying to veer off before the FS2 smashed into the mountainside. The craft screamed in protest and again, was sluggish to respond. _I'll need to have serious words with those engineers,_ thought Lee irrationally as he continued to wrestle with the recalcitrant controls. With agonizing slowness, the FS2 slowly veered to the left. Lee panted and grimaced in pain as he twisted with the controls willing the craft to turn. If it had had wings like a normal aircraft, it would have clipped the mountain and no doubt gone down but it just missed the rocky outcrops by a mere foot or two. Lee realized he was hardly out of the woods yet. In this storm, another mountain could be right in front of him and wouldn't know it until it was too late. He knew he couldn't chance a landing in this unknown terrain. If the flying sub landed in deep snow, he wouldn't be able to get it off the ground again. Unfortunately, winter was loathe to release its hold this far north and snow still covered much of the landscape. His only hope was to make it farther northwest to the Bering Strait and submerge. It would take longer to reach the crippled _Seaview _but considering how much this storm would delay him, running submerged would probably still be quicker; assuming, of course, that he didn't crash first. Lee's throat was parched and he could barely swallow. He quickly reached up and wiped the sweat from his face. He tried to ignore the pain coursing throughout his protesting body. Dark patches were gathering at the edges of his vision but he fought against it. He was determined _not_ to give into his weakness. There were too many people depending on him and he would be damned if he would let them down.

The flight through the storm seemed endless as Lee concentrated on finding a way out. According to his coordinates, he should be nearing the Bering Strait at any time. Once below the surface of the ocean he would be safe from the pounding of the tempest. Gradually, he nosed the FS2 downward. He didn't dare descend too quickly as he didn't know what he would find.

Suddenly a small explosion to his right sent sparks and flames spiraling into the cabin. It took Lee a moment to realize the electrical system had just shorted out. He fumbled with the catch of his safety harness as he scrambled out of his seat for the fire extinguisher in the rear of the compartment. His body shook with bouts of painful coughing as harsh fumes and smoke filled the cabin. Stumbling back to the electrical panel, Lee sprayed the flames with fire dampening foam quickly putting out the fire. Still coughing, a beeping warned him of an impending collision. He had just enough time to spy the sea ice rushing towards the FS2 before he was flung backward into the bulkhead by the force of the impact. He cried out in a burst of pain as his head slammed into corner of the supply cabinet and everything went black.

Nelson paced the control room anxiously. "Any word from Captain Crane?" he asked Sparks, the radio operator for the tenth time in the past thirty minutes. Crane was supposed to have arrived at least two hours ago.

"Still no word, Admiral," replied Sparks wearily. "I've been trying every frequency but I get no response."

Nelson sighed in frustration. "Well, keep trying." He wandered over to the plotting table where Chip stood watching. Chip's face was pale with exhaustion and the effects of the deteriorating quality of the air.

"If he doesn't come soon," Chip said quietly, "It won't matter. We have less than an hour before our air is gone." Nelson nodded grimly and glanced around the hushed control room. The crewmen all sat slumped at their stations or on the floor. Nelson had ordered all unnecessary movement be curtailed to help decrease the need for oxygen. Small auxiliary oxygen tanks had been distributed about the ship, but those wouldn't last long. The men watched Chip and Nelson with sunken, hopeless eyes. They all knew Crane had been their only hope and the fact that not only was the flying sub way overdue but also could not be raised on the radio was not a good sign. They were all wondering if mechanical failure was to blame or could it be the captain's fragile health had let him down. In the end, it didn't really matter; their deaths were guaranteed regardless of the cause. The silence dragged on, broken only by the rasping breaths of the slowly dying crew.

Nelson turned towards the nose of the _Seaview_ andstared morosely at the dark water before him. _What a God forsaken place to die, _he thought. _Certainly not where I would have chosen. _

Suddenly, a loud clang was heard from above. Everyone froze and looked towards the ceiling. "Admiral!" breathed Chip anxiously, "Could that be…?" No one spoke, Nelson as riveted as the rest of them. The hatched above opened and a weary voice spoke.

"Commander Crane wishes permission to come aboard!"

The control room exploded with cries of joy as the men scrambled to their feet and gathered at the base of the ladder. Laughing loudly, Nelson called out above the din of rejoicing crewmen, "Permission granted! Come aboard, Lee!"

The men moved out of the way as Lee carefully descended the ladder, a box held firmly under his arm. He turned and handed to Chip. "I think you've been waiting for this?"

With huge grin, Chip reached up and took the box, handing it off to a nearby crewman.

"Take this the Chief Sharkey in the reactor room on the double!" he ordered. With a nod the crewman took the box and scurried out of the control room just barely missing the three senators who had appeared in the entry.

Numerous hands reached up to help the captain as he struggled down the ladder to the deck Nelson frowned worriedly as he studied his friend. The side of Lee's head was covered in blood and his face was drawn and haggard. Obviously the only thing keeping him on his feet was his tenuous grip on the ladder itself. He was about to suggest calling for the doc when Lee gave him a warning look. Nelson glanced over and noticed the three senators approaching. He immediately understood Lee wanted to present as good an appearance as possible in front of these men.

"Commander Crane," said Rollins smoothly, "How wonderful that you were able to make it here in time! We are all in your debt."

Lee stared silently at Rollins for several long moments before replying. "I was just doing my duty, Senator." He turned to Nelson, "Now, Admiral, if you don't mind, I could sure use something to eat."

"Of course, Lee!" The men, their faces beaming, parted, to allow Lee, Chip and Nelson through. Lee smiled and greeted each man as they passed. The senators stood silently observing. This was a very different crew than the one they had been watching for the past week. The men's devotion to Crane was obvious as was his to them. Kerr nodded slowly. At last he understood.

The three men made their way out of the control room and into the corridor beyond. As soon as they were well beyond earshot, Lee slowed and stumbled. Chip quickly grabbed his friend as Lee's knees buckled and his body began to slump to the ground. Nelson grabbed his other arm. "Lee!" he cried.

"I…uh…" Lee mumbled but in a moment he was unconscious. Nelson and Chip exchanged worried glances.

"Come on," said Nelson getting a better hold, "Let's get him down to sickbay."

Dr. Jamison looked up as the door opened, leaping to his feet to help the men struggling into the room. "Skipper!" he cried instantly recognizing the unconscious man being supported by Nelson and Chip. "Put him here!" Nelson and Chip carefully lifted Crane onto the gurney where the doctor immediately began examining him.

"How is he, Doc?" Nelson finally asked.

Jamison sighed and stood back. "Well, he's certainly been worse!" he replied with a crooked grin. "He's completely exhausted and has a nasty gash on his head. He's also running a fever and seriously dehydrated. But, "he smiled again, "He should be all right after a few days in sickbay." He considered Lee's thin, haggard face. "It's obvious this mission took a lot out of him, Admiral and will undoubtedly set his recovery back a bit but I suspect in the long run, it will have done him more good than harm."

The first thing Lee noticed as he gradually regained consciousness was the throbbing in his head. The second was the welcome sound of the _Seaview's _engines. Although he had been gone a long time, he was still perfectly attuned to the sound of his beloved sub and right now, all sounded well. He smiled then slowly opened his eyes. Yes, as he expected, he was back in sickbay but it was the _Seaview's _sickbay and not some landlocked hospital. Right now, he didn't care where he was as long as he was on the sub where he belonged. He slowly stretched and gave a low moan as all the aches and pains acquired on his flight made their presence known.

"Skipper?" Lee looked up into the beaming face of Dr. Jamison. "Welcome back! How do you feel?"

Lee grinned back. "Wonderful!"

Jamison gave a short laugh. "OK, how does your _body_ feel?"

Lee, still smiling, closed his eyes. "Like I was run over by a truck, but I'm sure I'll live!"

Jamison laughed again. "Well Captain, this time I'm happy to say I agree with you! You've got a slight concussion and it took ten stitches to close that gash in your head but it looks like other than some bruises, you haven't done yourself any serious harm."

Lee nodded. "Yeah, it could have been a lot worse." He paused. "Still can't shake those fevers though."

Jamison sighed and frowned. "That is the one thing I am still worried about. Your temperature was 102º when they brought you in. It's down to about 100º now which is good."

Lee looked up at Jamison, his face grim. "Unless we can find someway to get rid of the typhoid for good, I can't see ever being allowed to resume command of the _Seaview_."

Jamison patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said. "I've started doing some more research on the matter and maybe I can find something that will help. In the meantime, all you need to do is rest!"


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Nelson sat quietly at his desk reading over some of the research results. Things had settled down dramatically since Lee arrived several hours ago with the parts. The reactor had been fixed; the _Seaview_ was back in working order and best of all, the senators would soon be on their way back to Washington. Now that the _Seaview_ was off the bottom, the FS1 could be launched and after the near disaster of recent events, Rollins was insistent they head back to Washington immediately. Kowalski was preparing the Flying Sub now and would pilot it to Elmendorf Air Force Base near Anchorage. From there, the senators could find a flight back to the Lower 48 and out of Nelson's hair.

He considered the current situation. Lee was still unconscious down in sickbay. Dr. Jamison had assured him and Chip that Lee would be all right but needed a lot of rest. He was still worried though. He couldn't help it. Lee had looked so terrible when he'd collapsed in the corridor and for one horrible moment, Nelson thought Lee was dead. But, Lee was tough and had proven once again that he was a force to be reckoned with. Nelson smiled and looked back at his research papers but a moment later, his concentration was broken by a diffident knock at the door.

"Come in." Nelson's eyes widened a fraction as Senators Kerr and Michaels peered in somewhat apprehensively.

"Excuse us, Admiral," said Kerr hesitantly, "But may we speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course," replied Nelson glancing at his watch. The senators would be gone within the hour. He supposed he could spare a few minutes although given a choice, he would have preferred to not lay eyes on any of the politicians again.

Kerr and Michaels exchanged glances and entered the cabin, carefully closing the door behind them. Nelson eyed them speculatively. It was unusual to see Rollins' cronies on their own. He remained silent, waiting for them to make the first move.

Kerr cleared his throat nervously and looked down before finally making eye contact with Nelson. "Admiral, we would like to offer you and your crew our deepest apologies." Nelson lifted an eyebrow but remained mute. This was interesting. Kerr glanced again at Michaels who was staring at the floor. Kerr licked his lips and began again. "Admiral, if nothing else, this trip has shown us just how wrong our knowledge has been concerning the way the _Seaview_ operates. We should never have tried to second guess you and if we had allowed you to operate your submarine as you saw fit, we could have avoided this near disaster. We are fully aware that it was our faulty decisions that resulted in your reactor failure which nearly killed us all."

Nelson leaned back in his chair. "I can't deny that is indeed the case."

Kerr nodded. "But we were even more wrong when we insisted that Commander Crane be removed as the captain of this vessel." Nelson stared at him in surprise. This was unexpected. Kerr continued. "We removed Commander Crane because Rollins convinced us that Crane had some kind of hero-fixation and risked his life more for glory than any real need. Well, we have seen firsthand that is hardly the case."

Michaels spoke for the first time. "When I first saw him, I couldn't believe he was on his feet." He shook his head at the memory. "Admiral, in my "other" life, I am a physician and I was frankly appalled by the condition of Commander Crane. It was obvious he should have been in a hospital and certainly not flying thousands of miles in an experimental aircraft through severe weather! I have read the reports and am fully aware of how severely injured Crane was. I would never have believed anyone recovering from such injuries as well as a serious illness would have been able to pull this off but it was obvious, he wasn't doing it for glory. He was doing it because this was _his _sub and _his _crew and he was the only one that could do it. He couldn't stand back and let us all die. Yet, in his current condition, no one would have faulted him for not going."

"And it's more than just that, Admiral!" broke in Kerr warming to his subject. "We both noticed the astounding change in the atmosphere of the sub when Commander Crane came aboard and it wasn't just because he had arrived in time to rescue us." He paused in thought. "It was almost as if an electrical charge went through the entire crew. There was spark of energy that had not been there before. These men knew Crane was on board, even the ones who weren't in the control room when he'd arrived and there was a new sense of purpose and confidence."

Michaels nodded. "It felt as if a hole had been filled; a sense that things had been set right."

"Admiral," said Kerr, "As I said before, we now know how wrong we were to remove Crane. It is obvious that he is the heart of this ship and its crew and Senator Michaels and I plan to do everything in our power to have Commander Crane reinstated as the captain of this vessel as soon as his health permits."

Nelson stared at the two senators in astonished disbelief. Of all the things he had expected to hear from these two, this was certainly not on the list. He was under the impression Rollins would go back to Washington and demand the president dry dock the _Seaview_ and keelhaul every crewman aboard while hanging Nelson from the yardarm. He never expected two of the committee to come around and actually appear to understand how things really worked on board the _Seaview. _"Gentlemen," he finally managed, "I…I don't know what to say! You are certainly making the right decision. There is no finer commander than Lee Crane."

The two senators exchanged glances once more and nodded. "We agree completely, Admiral, and we will make sure he is returned to his rightful place as captain of the _Seaview." _With final farewells, the two men turned and quietly left the cabin.

Nelson leaned back in his chair still unable to comprehend what had just happened. He had hopes that Lee's rescue mission would eventually result in his reinstatement as the _Seaview's _commander but he never in a million years would have expected the support of two of the senators on the finance subcommittee! He shook his head and laughed; the first genuine laugh he'd had in a long time. Maybe something was finally going to go right.

SIX WEEKS LATER

Lee Crane stood before the mirror of his bedroom nervously adjusting his tie. It wasn't as if he hadn't tied that tie thousands of times before but he felt the need to make sure everything was perfect. He studied his reflection and gave a rueful smile. Yes, he was still too thin but had regained a fair amount of his lost weight over the past few weeks. After much trial and error, Doc had come up with a regimen of medication that had finally seemed to destroy the persistent typhoid bug that had been plaguing Lee for months. He hadn't had a fever in the past three weeks and that had been instrumental in promoting his recovery. He had also spent hours in rehab working those muscles that had seen little use since Christmas almost six months ago. Other than occasional twinges and miscellaneous aches, Lee felt he was almost back to normal.

But now, the big day had finally come. Lee was about to return to his rightful place as the commander of the _Seaview. _As he moved away from his mirror, he thought back to the day Admiral Nelson had come to him with the most unexpected news. Senators Kerr and Michaels had kept their word. They fought Rollins at every turn and through sheer determination and perseverance had won the votes from the rest of the sub-committee to have Lee reinstated. Rollins had been furious that he had been thwarted. Nelson later learned that Rollins was an old friend of Admiral Vandergriff and Nelson had no doubt what the true motivation had been for Lee's dismissal. Vandergriff had hoped to have one final chance at revenge. With this loss, it seemed Rollin's iron-fisted control had been weakened and Nelson now hoped for a friendlier response from the committee in the future.

Today, however, was Lee's day and he was oddly nervous. The _Seaview _had been running quite smoothly under Chip's capable direction and Lee wondered if his return might cause some tension. Chip had repeatedly assured Lee that although he would like his own command someday, he didn't want it this way. Chip was adamant that for the moment, he was very content with being the _Seaview's _executive officer especially if that meant Lee could return as her captain. Lee sighed, checked his uniform one more time, then picked up keys. It was time.

The drive to the _Seaview's _secret berth seemed twice as long as usual. The traffic seemed worse, the lights longer and poorly coordinated, and all the other drivers must have been driving at half the speed limit. Lee drummed impatiently on his steering wheel as he waited for one final light to turn green; then he would be at the Institute.

He looked at his watch. It was still early and he was hoping would arrive before most of the crew. He really didn't want any fuss. He just wanted to get back to doing what he knew best.

Twenty minutes later found him at the top of the stairs leading down to the _Seaview_'s berth. She looked magnificent! It seemed a lifetime since he had last been aboard her but it really had only been weeks. However, he had hardly been in any shape to appreciate the voyage. He had spent most it had been unconscious. Slowly, he descended the stairs, never taking his eyes off the silent sub. He never felt as comfortable as he did aboard the vessel but he was almost hesitant to go aboard. He truly feared that the atmosphere on the _Seaview _would have changed in his absence and that there wouldn't be a place for him there any longer. He knew he was foolish to think that, but he was so desperate to return, it was hard not to have negative thoughts. So many things had gone wrong over the past six months; he was having difficulty believing anything good could happen to him. As Lee approached the _Seaview_ the security guard standing nearby saluted him. Lee hesitated a fraction of a second before returning the salute.

"Good to see you again, sir," said the guard with a grin. "We've missed you."

Lee ducked his head slightly in embarrassment. He had been hoping that he might just slip aboard unnoticed and everything would be back to normal. He knew that was a foolish hope, but he couldn't help it. "Thank you, Rogers," Lee replied as he turned to step onto the gangway leading to the sub. "It's certainly good to be back!"

It was strangely quiet as he came aboard the _Seaview_. He stood for a moment, his eyes closed, just exhilarating in the familiar sounds and smells of his beloved sub. He smiled softly to himself then turned to head towards his cabin so he could stow his gear. It was early for any but the skeleton crew to have come aboard yet. That is how Lee wanted it. The quiet would allow him some time to tour the ship without dealing with the greetings from the crew. He certainly appreciated their concern but hated all the attention.

After he had put away his things, Lee stood silently for a moment, reluctant to venture out further. It was safe here; no one expected anything from him. He laughed a little thinking he hadn't felt this nervous since taking his first command but he _knew_ these men as well as every bolt and wire of this boat. There was no reason to be nervous. However, he had to admit to himself, as he had frequently in these past months, his confidence in himself had been badly shaken. He had made some foolish decisions and paid dearly for them. Yes, he had managed to fly the FS2 through some dangerous conditions and made it in time to save the _Seaview _and her crew, but he had been running on adrenalin. Now, in the cold light of day, he doubted himself and whether or not he still had it in him to make the day to day decisions of a submarine commander. Was he willing to put the lives of his crew at risk because of his poor judgment?

_Stop it, Lee! _he scolded himself angrily. This was ridiculous! He knew he could do this. As soon as he was back in the control room he was certain his confidence would return. But…what if it didn't? Lee took a long look at himself in the wall mirror. "Well, Captain Crane," he said aloud. "There's only one way to find out!" Taking a deep breath, he turned, opened the cabin door and stepped out into the corridor. He then turned and strode forward down the corridor.

At the top of the spiral stairs leading to the control room, he again paused. He listened for a moment but could hear no voices or signs of life. He nodded to himself and slowly began the descent. As he took that last step, he froze in shock as the entire control room exploded into a cacophony of yells, cheers and whoops. Lee whirled around to find himself facing as much of the crew as could be crammed into the control room, radio shack and observation nose making their welcome to their beloved captain as loud as possible. Lee stood staring unable to take in what he was seeing. He slowly turned meeting the eyes of each and every cheering crewman until he finally found himself facing Chip and Admiral Nelson.

"Welcome aboard, Skipper," grinned Chip with an exaggerated salute. Lee returned the salute and grinned in return. The warmth of his reception and his racing heart told him everything he needed to know: This is where he truly belonged; Lee Crane was home at last.

THE END 


End file.
